Kiss Me, Elphie
by ReallyUhSharp
Summary: In Oz, it is customary for women to marry eldest first. In accordance with this tradition, Elphaba becomes entrapped in an abusive marriage. Having lost all faith in men, might she be able to lower her guard for a blonde, high society stranger? Gelphie.
1. Chapter 1

**Elphaba's father is a great follower of tradition, and in Oz, it is customary for women to be married eldest first. In accordance with this custom, Elphaba finds herself entrapped into an abusive marriage. Having lost all faith in men, might she be able to lower her guard for a blonde, high society stranger? Gelphie.**

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This story is rather more adult-focused and pessimistic than my other stories have been. It's based on William Shakespeare's "The Taming of the Shrew", and is (of course) Gelphie-orientated. It's set in a patriarchal Oz, and, instead of an adolescent, student-based telling of Elphaba and Glinda's story, the characters are older and face the challenges of an adult world.

* * *

><p>"Father! Father!"<p>

Elphaba watched from afar as her sister's chair careered into the hallway. Nessarose's eyes were alight with happiness, her cheeks flushed joyously. This was the happiest Elphaba had seen her sister in a long time, but far from sharing in the sentiment, the green woman felt only foreboding mixed with the smallest hint of jealousy. This could only mean one thing.

"He's proposed to me! Father, Boq's _proposed!_We're going to be _married!_"

She had presumed correctly. Sighing, Elphaba barely blinked as her father sped past her, ignoring her as completely as he might had she been a simple part of the doorframe she leaned against. Quick as anything, Frexspar was at the side of his other daughter: the tragically beautiful daughter, the daughter who had suitors calling at the door for her daily, the daughter who hadn't any need for those other suitors any longer…

"Nessarose, that's simply wonderful…"

"Isn't it! Perhaps we can marry this weekend! Though of course, I'll need to find something to wear and-"

"… But you can't possibly marry with the current state of our household."

… The daughter who was still so blissfully naïve about the extent of their father's stubbornness on this particular issue.

"_What_? What do you _mean_? Of course I can marry: Boq's _proposed_to me! I'm engaged."

She fluttered her left hand, which bore a simple and yet beautiful white-gold band adorned with a solitary ruby stone. Smiling despite himself, Frexspar caught his daughter's hand and examined it carefully. The smug smile which crept across Nessarose's face as her father admired her ring did not go unnoticed by Elphaba: Nessa thought she had won her father over as she always did on every matter other than this one.

"It's beautiful," Frex smiled finally, releasing his daughter's hand. His face was wistful: Elphaba knew that he wanted to give Nessa what she wanted, but the costs against his stature would be too great. He was the Governor of Munchkinland; it was up to him to follow the traditions of the land and to set a standard for his people. Elphaba had heard the arguments so many times that she knew them line for line. She knew what was coming next too.

"Nessarose, Boq is a fine man and it would give me great pleasure if you became his wife," Frex continued, causing Nessa to beam all the more greatly. He paused, before adding the potent clause to his words. "However, you know very well that you may not marry until I have found a man willing to take on Elphaba as his wife."

_One__… __Two__…_Elphaba counted satirically. She had not even reached three before Nessa burst into frenzied tears, slamming her fists down on either arm of her chair.

"What in Oz's name do you _mean_I can't marry?" Nessa cried hysterically, her face even more flushed now, though any physical signs of happiness had been replaced by pure, unadulterated anger, "Do you not see the crater of a flaw in the statement you've just proposed? Do you realise how long I shall be engaged if _Elphaba_has to be married before me? I shall be single for all of eternity and shall end up an old maid and then _nobody_will want me!"

"She has a point," Elphaba agreed wryly from the door, though neither her father nor her sister acknowledged that she had spoken.

"Nessarose, I haven't the slightest fear for you ending up an old maid." Frex spoke calmly, undoubtedly trying to encourage Nessa to do the same, "It is Elphaba for whom I have that worry and that is why she must be married first. It is a great Ozian tradition that one's daughters should be married eldest first, and as a Governor, it is my duty to reinforce such traditions. Imagine if you will, the shame my name would come to if my oldest daughter were to reach the age of thirty and still be unmarried. Therefore, Elphaba is the priority; we shall deal with the arduous matter of finding a husband who can tolerate her and only when that is out of the way shall you be married, Nessarose. That is the way that things are."

He bent to kiss his daughter, but Nessa turned her head away fiercely. Frex planted a kiss on her cheek instead to which she stubbornly did not respond. Then, with a final apologetic look, he turned and walked back in the direction from which he had appeared, again passing Elphaba without acknowledgement.

"Elphaba, you have to find somebody to be your husband," Nessa pleaded, wheeling around the moment her father had left and turning her dark brown eyes desperately on her sister. Elphaba could not help noticing with a hint of contempt that they were now miraculously tear-free. "Father will not relent; he will not allow me to marry until you have found a suitor."

"So I heard. But Nessa, do you honestly suppose it is that simple for me?" Elphaba asked tersely. They had engaged in this conversation many times and it was beginning to wear rather thin with her. "What do you expect me to do; post a personal advertisement in the local newspaper? What a brilliant idea," she pressed on satirically, when Nessa's expression implied that she might actually be considering this idea, "The clause on the end about suitors needing to be particularly accommodating to abnormal skin colours is sure to encourage a _great__number_of possible contenders."

"Oh, please," Nessa scoffed, her expression suddenly scathing, "You may be able to delude yourself, but it won't wash with me. Father has brought a great number of suitors to the house for you, and you scare them off not because you are green, but due to the way in which you insist on displaying to them such an aggressive nature. Your whole manner of acting emits a distinct air of misandrism. _How_in all that is Holy do you expect a man to love you, when you exude nothing but hate and prejudice towards them simply because they are male?"

Elphaba paused. "I don't _expect_anybody to _love_me," she stressed finally, "Not a man. I don't expect anything of males any more. When I was young I allowed my hopes to be raised every time Father invited a new suitor into the house, and each time my hopes were crushed as each guest, in turn, recoiled at the sight of me. I refuse to allow myself to be degraded in that way any longer; and thus have reached the conclusion that I am utterly unlovable."

"I don't think you're unlovable at all," Nessa argued stubbornly, and Elphaba felt a pang as her sister's eyes filled with angry tears; real ones this time. She hated it when Nessa cried, particularly when she knew that she had been the one to have caused it. "Just horribly selfish!"

Elphaba sighed as her sister turned in a fury and wheeled herself away following these words. It hurt her more than she was willing to admit that Nessa's happiness had to be compromised because of her own hideousness, but knew that there was little she could do to change the way of things.

If truth be told, Elphaba had, in the last few years, become more and more deeply entangled in a vicious circle with the suitors of whom Nessa had spoken. She had grown progressively more resentful towards the men invited into the house on her behalf over the years as they had, one by one, made it clear, with varying degrees of bluntness, that they did not wish to marry her. However, as Nessarose had correctly observed, this resentfulness had increasingly started to show in the way Elphaba behaved upon meeting further possible suitors. The more obvious her disdain towards them became, the more intimidating she grew and the more she frightened them away. Nobody wanted a wife who addressed them with sarcasm and satirical wit, a wife who had no intention of being obedient to them. "Unable to handle such a fiery temper," had become something of a repeatedly garbled excuse for departure as man after man had scurried from the house, from Elphaba.

"Father," Elphaba called suddenly, as Frex appeared in the hallway from a room three doors down and to her right. She watched as he hesitated for a moment, before determining which daughter had addressed him and continuing on his way, then hitched up her skirts and chased after him. She managed to intercept him before he reached his destination, moving in front of him and forcing him to come to a halt or else trample her.

He looked like he might have preferred to have engaged in the latter and have got her sorry life over with as he paused, shooting her a look of abject disdain. "What have I told you about running? It is ungainly and ugly. And you are in my way, Elphaba," Frex demanded impatiently, trying to brush her out of his path. Elphaba stood steadfast, however.

"Father, have you considered allowing Nessarose to marry as she wants and simply giving up on me?" she asked quickly, hurrying her words before they were interrupted, "I am not much of a daughter in comparison to her; she is your treasure. Have you considered that it might be my destiny to remain unmarried?"

She anticipated the slap a second before it happened, but could do nothing to prevent it. Her head snapped on reflex to the side, and her hand flew to her cheek as she reeled from the impact. And then Frex's face was mere inches in front of hers and Elphaba could do nothing but look back into his hate-filled eyes, doing her utmost to keep her gaze neutral as she knew that any implication of defiance would elicit another striking.

"I will _not_have any daughter of mine become an old maid," he bellowed, a vein standing out of from his head from fury. Elphaba watched the vein pulse rhythmically in and out as her father continued to yell at her, distracting herself from his harsh words. "You are nearing thirty and might do well to remember that your grotesque appearance makes your sell-by-date considerably lower than that of most. Your continuing single status is due only to lack of effort- even the most hideous and overbearing of creatures can find a husband should they try hard enough. You _will_try harder and you _will_find a man who will tolerate you. Your sister's happiness is at stake, Elphaba. Don't you dare let her down."

Then, with a final menacing look, he strode down the hallway and in the direction of his study. Elphaba heard the door slam seconds later. Then, hearing a soft scuffle, she turned her head sharply to her left, only to see Nessarose some way down the hall in the other direction, her eyes heavy with pity. Elphaba forced herself to smile bravely, and finally removed her hand from her cheek, revealing, she was sure, an angry red mark from the impact of her father's hand.

"Don't worry about me, Nessa," she reassured her sister briskly, "After twenty-eight years, I'm used to it. My skin has become so accustomed to any such impact that it barely hurts any more, and the yelling simply goes over my head these days."

It seemed she had misinterpreted Nessa's expression, however, as her sister's face hardened at these words. "Must you always antagonise him so, Elphaba?" Nessa asked, her voice rising again in hysteria, "You know it aggravates him when you criticise his methods of raising us. If there was any hope before of him allowing me to marry Boq, there isn't _now. _You're so _useless, _Elphaba."

_Useless, _Elphaba repeated silently, as she watched Nessarose disappear from sight. That was another one she would have to include in her personal advertisement.

* * *

><p>"Poncia, is Master Moncrieff <em>still <em>here?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am," the maid replied apologetically, and Glinda sighed.

"Poncia, what could possibly be taking them so long?" she asked in exasperation, "I appreciate that they don't want me interfering in their conversation and if truth be told I'd rather keep my distance _anyhow_, but I would really quite like my husband back. I rarely have the chance to see him as it is, he's always so busy."

"You're quite right, ma'am," Poncia agreed, rising as a bell sounded from downstairs, "Would you like me to enquire as to how long Mister Fiyero is likely to be?"

"No, no, don't bother," Glinda replied, waving her hand airily, "He'll only become irritable if he's rushed."

"As you wish, ma'am," Poncia nodded and turned to leave.

"Just wait a clock tick, Poncia." Glinda gave the maid a welcoming smile. "Won't you stay and talk a while? I know you have your work to do, but it's a lonely existence, being wife to a Prince," she added sadly, when Poncia hesitated uncertainly, "And I do become awfully bored with nobody to talk to."

"If ma'am would like me to stay, then I shall do as she wishes," Poncia said finally, and Glinda beamed delightedly.

"Perfect!" she said, patting the armchair opposite her invitingly. "Do have a seat."

Once Poncia had perched awkwardly opposite her, Glinda paused. What she really wanted was to talk about her husband, but how did one begin a conversation with her maid?

"Have you ever been in love, Poncia?" she suddenly asked impulsively.

She watched Poncia eye her dubiously as though looking for permission to answer the question honestly, and waited patiently. Finally, the maid nodded slowly.

"Once," she said softly.

"Who was he?"

"I-" Poncia looked down, nervously shuffling her feet.

"Go on," Glinda prompted gently, genuinely intrigued now, "I want us to be friends, Poncia, not simply mistress and maid."

Slowly, Poncia looked up. "Harkin," she whispered, then mumbled something so softly that Glinda couldn't make it out.

"What was that, dear?" she leaned closer.

"He was the eldest son of a family I once served," Poncia repeated, slightly less quietly.

Glinda sat back, surveying her maid in surprise. "But you know that sort of love is forbidden!" she exclaimed, "Why, if his parents had known-"

"I _know_," Poncia interrupted, causing Glinda to frown. "I mean," she quickly added, correctly interpreting the look on her mistress' face, "I'm sorry to interrupt you, ma'am. But what you have just said is just the reason I never disclosed my affections. He belonged to a wealthy, high-status family and I was…"

"Just a maid," Glinda finished, when Poncia's voice trailed off. "But surely you know, dear, that affections of that sort are not real _love_?" she then asked gently, "The boy was handsome and you admired him, but you knew he could never return those feelings, as he was destined to love a girl equal in status to himself. And you, my dear, are destined one day to marry a man as humble as yourself; and I am sure he will be just lovely. _That_will be real love, Poncia dearest; rather than some silly unrequited infatuation."

Poncia simply continued to stare at the floor and said nothing, and Glinda wondered for a moment whether she'd offended her.

"Ma'am, do you love your husband?" she asked finally, after a long pause.

Glinda raised her eyebrows at the impertinent question. "Of course I love him," she said, "The marriage between Fiyero and myself was arranged by our parents, and quite rightly so. They are older than us, and understand the world better; and an arranged marriage eliminates the possibility of becoming infatuated with the wrong people, as you yourself were." She threw Poncia a lingering glance. "You might want to try it yourself, dear. Allow your parents to choose a husband for you, and then let your love grow from the foundation they have built. You'll find then that it is possible to _choose_who you fall in love with," she concluded, just as the door opened and Fiyero entered.

"Fiyero!" Glinda beamed, immediately rising to her feet and going to him. "I've missed you, dearest!"

It wasn't until she had placed her arms around his torso and embraced him that she noticed the sheepish look in his eyes. She moved away suspiciously.

"Now whatever's going on?" she asked, "You look as guilty as a puppy who's just had an accident in the sitting room!"

She heard snickers from the hallway at this allusion, and Fiyero's cheeks flushed furiously.

"Errrr." He opened the door wider. "Avaric, would you come in here a moment?"

Glinda felt her eyebrows raise as the smirking face of Avaric Moncrieff entered into the room, and she quickly shot her husband a look, silently enquiring as to why his friend was _still_in the house. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Glinda… Darling… Avaric's going to be staying in the Emerald City for a while," he told her, "He has, ah, business to attend to here, which I won't bore you with the details of. But, as he hasn't anywhere to stay, I've offered him our hospitality."

"I see," Glinda said slowly, ensuring that both her expression and voice remained impassive. "How kind of you, dearest." She turned to Avaric. "Master Avaric, it will be my pleasure to have you reside here until you find someplace more… permanent."

"You are most generous, Lady Glinda," Avaric told her with a slight incline of his head that Glinda might have taken as a short bow, had the same smirk not been in his eyes. "And now, if both of you good people will excuse me, I have to go and take care of some… _business_, just as you said, Fiyero." He glanced at the other man and a corner of his mouth twitched. "I shall be back in time for dinner."

Glinda stood silently until she heard the front gates rattle- signaling to her that Avaric was indeed gone- and then rounded on her husband.

"What in Oz are you _thinking_, Fiyero?" she asked him, hands planted firmly on her hips, "I don't believe for one clock tick that Master Avaric is here on _business._I'll bet he's gone down to the local alehouse, where he'll make a fool of himself, which will, in turn, have a bad reflection on _us._"

Fiyero simply shrugged helplessly. "He's an old friend, Glinda. He asked if he could stay here until he'd got himself on his feet, and what could I say?"

"You could say _no_!" Glinda said, exercising every bit of self-restrain she possessed to prevent her voice from rising to a very unladylike shriek. "That is your problem, Fiyero. You can't deny anybody anything, and that is why everybody takes advantage of you. It is becoming very tiresome, and as your wife, I refuse to stand for it any longer. I want Master Avaric _gone_, Fiyero, and as soon as possible."

And with that, Glinda neatly sidestepped her husband and flounced out of the room, heading for her chamber in which she intended to spend the next half hour engaged in a heavy sulk.

* * *

><p>As he handed his coat to the butler, Avaric became aware- through his mild intoxication- of the sound of male voices which seemed to be coming from the East sitting room. Frowning slightly, he began to meander in that direction. Fiyero had not disclosed to him that he would be entertaining any additional guests today, and Avaric disliked being surprised.<p>

Once he had opened the door and surveyed the contents of the room, however, he grinned at the sight which met his eyes.

"Boq, old chum!" he exclaimed, going to the Munchkin who quickly rose from his seat so that Avaric could clap him forcefully on the back, "What brings you from Munchkinland? I heard you'd been courting the Governor's daughter- aren't the pair of you married yet?"

"Well, in actual fact, that's part of the reason I'm here," Boq replied, rubbing his back and wincing slightly, "Nessarose and I are engaged- but her father won't allow her to marry until her elder sister has found a husband."

"Really?" Avaric felt his eyes light up at this. The Governor's daughter was looking for a husband? "And what is this older sister like?"

"She's…" Boq began, but then his voice seemed to trail off, and he looked at Fiyero as though for help.

Fiyero cleared his throat. "Why don't you take a seat, Avaric?" he said, indicating the sumptuous collection of armchairs which filled the sitting room.

Avaric cocked an eyebrow at this exchange, but obediently took a seat. He could feel the cloudiness which the ale he had consumed that afternoon beginning to leave his brain; and as this happened, he was growing thoughtful.

"So how much dowry do you suppose one would be paid for marrying this Thropp woman?" he asked of the others, frowning in consideration.

"A fair amount," Boq told him immediately, "And be sure not to forget status. She will one day be the Governess of Munchkinland; then being her husband would provide one with great power and authority."

"Great power over Munchkinland, hmm?" Avaric repeated, before grinning, "Well, being married to this girl sounds far better than sleeping at Fiyero's place and living off my dwindling inheritance."

"Precisely what we thought," Fiyero said, while Boq nodded, "From what I have heard, Elphaba may not be the most ideal of wives, but by marrying her, you will gain status. And her father is quite anxious for her to be married: she is nearing thirty. I'll bet he would pay for you both to live somewhere grand, as well as funding the wedding."

Avaric's grin grew larger. This proposition was looking all the more appealing to him the more they spoke on it. But then something suddenly occurred to him and he frowned.

"So why is it that this high status woman is nearing thirty and yet remains unmarried?" he queried suspiciously.

Fiyero and Boq glanced at one other.

"Well, she has certain… afflictions," Fiyero told him finally.

"Afflictions? How so?"

"Well, there is her temper for one thing…" Boq began carefully.

"Temper? You imply that I am incapable of quietening a tempestuous woman?"

"You trivialise my allusion. This woman's temper is not like any other. The stories Nessarose has told me…" Boq licked his lips nervously. "Well, it sounds as though Miss Elphaba can be rather frightening when she wants to be."

"Frightening?" Avaric let out a hearty laugh. "Boq, remember that it is a woman you speak of. Women are simple beings and it takes very little to make them obedient. A plant will grow for you if you give it food, water and sunshine. In the same way, a woman-"

"Well, that brings us to the other, somewhat larger affliction," Fiyero interrupted hastily, and Avaric rolled his eyes. Once he began in his denigration of women, he could continue for hours, but since he had married Glinda, Fiyero didn't seem to care to hear it any longer.

"What does? My reference to plants?" Avaric asked with a smirk. He noticed Boq grimace at this, and his curiosity grew. He leaned in closer, anxious to hear what else might be causing this woman to repel men.

"Well, yes, exactly that, actually," Boq said cautiously, "She's green, Avaric."

"Green?" Avaric looked from one man to the other in confusion, "What do you mean, _green_? Green with envy? With evil? She enjoys gardening? What?"

"No, Boq means that she's _green_, Avaric," Fiyero said gently, "Her skin is the colour of the grass in the gardens."

Avaric's eyes followed the Prince's inclination towards the window, and he stared out into the gardens as though he had never before witnessed the colour of grass. Then he turned back to the two men in front of them and stared at them in horror. This had to be a practical joke. Surely his friends must know that he would not be seen in public escorting a woman with a disfigurement as great as that? A _green_woman? His face contorted in disgust and rose to his feet agitatedly, turning to the door.

"Avaric?" He turned, and found his friends watching him anxiously, "Where are you going?"

He scowled at them. "I'm going back to the tavern, as I'll need a good few jugs of ale to rid my mind of the repulsive image the pair of you have just planted within it."

"Come on, Avaric," Fiyero said, rising himself, "Sit back down. I'm sure it isn't as bad as it sounds…"

"As bad as it sounds?" Avaric gave a laugh, "You've just told me that the woman is _green,_Fiyero. You expect me to stand at an alter and be joined in Holy matrimony to a _vegetable_? You expect me to show up to social gatherings with a _cucumber_on my arm?" He laughed again: a harsh, unemotive sound that resonated in the high-ceilinged room. "Think again, Fiyero. I'm not your man."

He started again for the door, but Boq rose to his feet and caught him by the arm. "Avaric, what choice do you have?" he asked, with rather more force than with which he would usually address the other man, "You have shown up in the Emerald City having shredded your name into tatters in Gillikin. You have no family left and almost all your inheritance is gone on alcohol, women and cheap thrills… You have few possessions and no house. Fiyero is allowing you to stay with him for now, but how long do you suppose it will take for his generosity to dwindle? Glinda is already becoming frustrated with your presence in her house, and she has more influence over her husband than you would like to believe. What will you do then, Avaric?"

Boq paused for breath, and glanced guiltily at Fiyero, apparently realizing that he had said more than he should have. Avaric looked at Fiyero too, and felt his expression harden into one of anger. Was this true? Did Fiyero resent having him as a houseguest?

Fiyero seemed unfazed, however, as he shook his head. "Avaric, whatever our intentions are for doing so, we are informing you of a man who is desperate for his eldest daughter to be married," he said calmly, "So desperate, in fact, that he will ask you no questions about your background before offering her to you. If you can convince Elphaba to agree to marry you; you no longer have to worry about housing or money. Your name is not well-known in Munchkinland as it was in Gillikin, but with Elphaba as your wife, you will become respected once again. Is that not what you want, Avaric?"

Despite himself, Avaric could feel himself wavering. His eyebrows were knitted together in thought more than anger now. After a moment or so, he shook his arm roughly free from Boq's grip and headed for the door. He sensed Boq follow behind him into the hallway and watch him as he grabbed his cape from where it had been hung beside the door.

Finally, he turned to look at the Munchkin. "I'll think about it, okay?" he said gruffly, before shrugging his cape over his shoulders.

As he slammed the door behind himself, Avaric knew that behind him, Fiyero and Boq were grinning broadly, and he scowled. He knew that the other men knew him well enough to realise that- despite his reluctance to admit to it- he had already decided that he would follow through with their suggestion and pay this Miss Elphaba a visit.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Avaric's line about "raging fire" is a direct quote from William Shakespeare's _The Taming of the Shrew_, and Elphaba's song is an excerpt from _Damascus _by Nerina Pallot.

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

The doorbell was chiming incessantly.

"Elphaba!" Frexspar bellowed, not for the first time, but Elphaba paid no mind to him. Nessarose, in her own bedroom, was in a hefty sulk and so, Elphaba supposed, was she. After her argument with her father, she had retired to her bedroom and had thrown herself onto the bed, cursing the unfairness of it all. She hated the way her father still presumed he could beat her like a child, and loathed the fact that she was powerless to stop him. She couldn't stand the horror of this house any longer, and yet the only way to leave it would be to marry. And even if, miraculously, her father managed to find somebody who would endure her as a wife, Elphaba supposed she would just be moving from one horror to the next. Instead of being bound in duty to her father, she would be bound in duty to her husband. It was the curse of being a woman, Elphaba realised: destined always to be subordinate to one imposing male or another.

The doorbell chimed twice more. Whoever was ringing it had more patience than her, Elphaba thought, throwing herself from her bed in frustration and moving finally to answer it.

When she looked through the peephole and saw the handsome male face staring back at her, Elphaba's own face hardened into a scowl. Much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was envious of her sister. Nessa was on the verge of betrothal, and yet she _still _had suitors calling for her almost daily. Suitors intended for Elphaba had needed to be lied to by omission about her skin colour in order for Frexspar to persuade them to come near the house, and they'd generally seemed to run a mile within the first ten minutes of meeting her. Then, gradually, word had spread of the unfortunate affliction of her skin and her uncouth disposition and the number of suitors willing to meet her had swiftly diminished. Frexspar had not found a suitor who would agree to see Elphaba in months.

When the doorbell chimed _again, _Elphaba had already worked herself into something of a rage. A noise almost like a snarl proceeded from her mouth as she flung the door open. The man on the other side opened his mouth as though in greeting, but Elphaba ignored him, instead whipping out a hand and pulling the chain of the doorbell as hard as she could. It came away in her hand, falling free from where it hung. Then, still clenching it in her fist, she slammed the door shut without a word. There, that would take care of the noise, at least.

Peering again through the peephole, Elphaba grinned at the man's shocked expression. He was really quite handsome, she thought as she studied him. Not for the first time, she wondered why Nessa had chosen to marry Boq; he was hardly the most attractive of the gentlemen who came calling. Strong was the first word to cross Elphaba's mind as she viewed this particular candidate, though she did not necessarily view this as a positive trait. As far as she had experienced, the men who were the strongest were often also the most stupid, and she had yet to meet a man who possessed any form of strength she placed value upon: strength of character, of wit, of knowledge.

"Who was at the door, Elphaba?"

Her father had arrived in the hallway and he stood in one of its doorways, addressing her with no more compassion than he ever had. Suddenly feeling defiant, Elphaba strode to him and handed over the door chain. He took it, though more through puzzlement than anything else.

"What's this?" he demanded, putting out a hand as Elphaba attempted to sidle past him.

"The door bell." Both her expression and voice remained completely neutral. "There was some oaf outside in search of Nessarose, but I think I scared him away. I do seem to have that effect on people."

And on that note, she fled into the piano room before her father had had chance to process what she had told him.

He did not follow her, but Elphaba could hear him muttering all the way to the front entry. Most of the muttering was nonsensical, but phrases flew out at her: "threat to social standing," "demon child," -the usual complaints.

Elphaba moved to the piano stool and climbed nimbly onto it, running her fingers over the cool, shiny wood of the beautiful instrument. The lid was firmly locked- it had been that way for years- and yet she could imagine her fingers gliding fluidly across the keys. Elphaba closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember how it had felt to truly play. She could still remember the tunes she had learned and the ones she had composed personally: sometimes they soothed her to sleep at night and sometimes they kept her awake with their frantic urgency to resume their life on the piano. Elphaba sang silently as she played her imaginary chords:

_I saw the light - I saw the light!  
><em>_  
>But hey, it never saw me -<br>__  
>Oh, conversion has just left me heathen.<br>__  
>And we could wait a thousand years,<br>__  
>Perhaps a million or more,<br>__  
>If it<em>_'__s worth waiting for, but I__'__m leaving._

_So on to a mecca of earthly delights -_

_Depression is only desire deprived._

_Once more unto the breach and fuck my getting it right -_

_We__'__ve died for so long, let__'__s just get out alive-_

Suddenly, she stopped abruptly, hearing male voices in the hallway. She might have been impressed that the gentleman outside the door had not been frightened away, had she not heard something disturbing which had caught her attention. Elphaba had heard her _name._

Swift as lightening, she moved to the door of the room she was in and opened it just a fraction, listening intently.

"- correct in thinking that you have a daughter named Elphaba who is lovely and kind-hearted, graceful and elegant, full of the cleverest of wit and yet of the sweetest disposition?"

Elphaba shook her head in confusion. Whoever this man had been talking to must surely have been playing a cruel prank on him- or else he was simply mistaking her for somebody else. She did not possess a single one of those traits, save for perhaps wit.

Evidently, her father shared in this sentiment. "Well… I have a daughter named Elphaba…" he allowed, sounding distinctly bemused.

"Excellent! Might I meet the fine lady?

"Whatever for?" was her father's bewildered response, and Elphaba nodded in agreement. She was wondering precisely the same thing.

"I have an interest in making her my wife, of course," the man replied heartily, and Elphaba froze. This had to be some sort of a trick, she realised immediately; some imbecile's vision of a funny joke. Men did not simply turn up at the house requesting her hand in marriage. That was Nessa's domain, not hers. She listened for her father's reaction.

"Well, this is wonderful," Frex replied after a beat, though Elphaba was not surprised to hear a hint of scepticism in his tone, "When would you like to see her?"

Elphaba cringed inwardly, noting that her father had refrained from asking any of the usual questions with regards to wealth, heritage and background before granting this man a meeting with her. Evidently, Frex saw her as a desperate case now: and though Elphaba could not entirely disagree with this diagnosis, she did not like it. She would rather remain unmarried for the rest of her life than be married off to the only drunkard with questionable sanity who would pose to her the question.

"I was thinking perhaps now?" the gentleman was asking somberly, "I have a rare few hours of freedom, you see. If the young lady is about, of course?"

"Yes, she's about," Frexspar, responded slowly, "Though we did not anticipate company…"

"Oh, that's perfectly fine," came the unswayed response, "There's no need to put on any affected graces for my benefit: I'd much rather meet with Miss Elphaba as she comes, naturally."

Elphaba snorted. This man clearly knew nothing about her.

"Well, if you insist… Master Avaric, did you say?"

"Indeed. Avaric Moncrieff."

"Well, Master Avaric-" Elphaba heard her father's voice lower slightly and opened the door a little more to better hear. "Before you do meet her, there are a couple of things you may not be aware of-"

"Oh, I'm perfectly aware of her unique skin tone," the self-proclaimed Master Avaric was saying brazenly, "In fact, it's one of the things that draws me to her particularly. A jewel is worth far more if it is of a rare kind, is it not? And besides, I've always been particularly partial to emeralds."

_I__'__m nobody__'__s jewel, _Elphaba thought, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. But despite this initial thought, Master Avaric's words seemed to strike an odd sort of resonance within her. _I__'__m perfectly aware of her unique skin tone. In fact, it__'__s one of the things that draws me to her particularly__…_Slowly, her fists unclenched unsurely.

"Then that's very well, I suppose…" Frexspar responded, sounding stunned, and Elphaba smirked a little. This entire ordeal, even if it turned out to be a practical joke, may be worth it just to listen to her father's incredulity. "And I assume, since you seem to know Elphaba so well, that you're aware of her… ahm, rather uncalled for… boldness?"

"Oh, indeed," Master Avaric replied and Elphaba raised her eyebrows, beginning to grow incredulous herself now. This had to be a joke, it _had _to be. Her audacity always frightened suitors away if not her skin colour; that much was a given. "That is another thing which I find particularly attractive about your daughter, sir. There is nothing I detest more than young ladies who are so meek that they lose all sense of personality. I haven't the slightest fragment of doubt that I am up to the task of taming Miss Elphaba into becoming a fine wife."

Unable to listen any longer, Elphaba moved away from the door and began pacing up and down in agitation, her hands wringing apprehensively. The reference to _taming _her had not gone unnoticed or indeed unresented, but there had been a single word in Master Avaric's last speech which had unsettled her. _Attractive. _It had been flung out almost casually, as though it was not abnormal in the slightest to consider a green woman _attractive. _There was something wrong here; something seriously wrong.

Then the loudening sound of the men's voices awakened Elphaba to a serious realisation: Master Avaric and her father were about to come _in _here. She was not a third party in this ordeal: she was the _subject_ of it. How in the name of Oz was she supposed to react to somebody like Master Avaric? He was not like anybody she had ever met- he had spoken as though he was impressed by her: in awe of her, almost. Suddenly, Elphaba was filled with an intense hope that this _was _all a practical joke. She knew how to deal with that: she could use her sarcasm and wit to barricade herself from it. If Master Avaric really wanted to marry her, then sarcasm and wit would not assist her: she would be forced to lower her defenses. And Elphaba was afraid of that much more than she was of being rejected.

She moved to the piano stool and sat down, and then changed her mind and stood up again. She brushed down her dress. It suddenly occurred to Elphaba that she was not dressed for meeting suitors in the slightest. She was wearing one of her oldest dresses for comfort: it had been black at one time, but had now faded to an indistinct grey colour. On her feet, she wore the sturdy, practical boots which her father hated- at least they were heavy enough to provide her with a good weapon should she require one, Elphaba thought wildly. Her hair, which she had pulled impatiently from its customary braid after her fight with her father, now fell to her waist in an untamed mess. She was certainly not the epitome of grace and femininity. And yet, Master Avaric had requested to meet with her as she came, naturally, without any affected graces… Subconsciously, Elphaba started to smooth her hair before she caught herself and lowered her hands, annoyed with herself. She was past making an effort for suitors; she was _past _that.

* * *

><p>The next thing Elphaba knew, she was alone in the room with Avaric.<p>

"Ah, so you are the famous Elphie?" he asked, looking her up and down in curiosity or amusement. Elphaba felt her expression harden immediately.

"Elphaba," she corrected, "My name is Elphaba."

"Indeed? So you care not for affectionate pet names." He moved a little closer, and Elphaba retreated quickly behind the piano. He paused, smiling a little. "Or for others standing within a close proximity of you."

"I care not for men whom I have just met imposing their presence upon me and attempting to flatter me with inappropriately friendly nicknames," she bit back at once.

"Is that so? But don't you feel the connection between us?" He began moving around the piano towards her, grinning, and Elphaba moved quickly in the opposite direction, "We've only just met and yet I feel that I've known you for years."

Elphaba shook her head. She felt nothing but confusion and anger towards this man.

"No? Then it must simply be me, won over by your transcendent beauty," he leered.

Elphaba snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Transcendent beauty?" she scoffed.

"Now, now." Avaric was still edging closer and Elphaba wished he'd desist- constantly having to predict his movements and arrange her own so that she was always a safe distance away from him was becoming tedious. "Self-deprecation is far from ladylike."

"Then it fits me perfectly," Elphaba replied hostilely, "If you were expecting to find a lady, then you came searching in the wrong place."

Avaric chuckled. "Not a lady, hey? Well, I don't believe you. Perhaps if you came over here, then I could verify that claim."

Elphaba froze, her eyes widening. "You will do no such thing," she told him furiously, "If this is the way you treat women upon meeting them for the first time, then it comes as no surprise to me that you have not yet found a wife."

"So you _are _a woman?" Avaric raised his eyebrows and folded his arms, evidently amused.

"I said that I was not a _lady_, implying that I do not possess that particular attitude with which _ladies _are associated. I never claimed not to be female."

"Still," Avaric replied slickly, "I think we should check, just to be sure."

He began walking towards her and this time Elphaba did not move, simply glaring at him, silently daring him to try anything. Avaric's grin grew larger. He continued walking towards Elphaba until he was less than a foot away. Still Elphaba waited. Then, just as he reached out as though to take her by the waist, Elphaba pulled back a green hand and slapped him straight across the face with all the force she could muster.

Avaric recoiled, one hand dropping to his side and the other reaching to grasp his cheek. Elphaba was pleased to see the shock mixed with anger in his expression.

"Well, well, Miss _Elphie,_" he said finally through gritted teeth, "I had heard about your attitude from external sources, but I never imagined that you would reveal your true colours with such haste."

"Then you underestimated me," Elphaba scowled, "I may be a woman, but that does not render me incapable of defending myself against crude imbeciles like you."

Avaric merely glared at her, his hand falling from his cheek. Elphaba glared back just as defiantly, pleased to notice that her impromptu attack had left his cheek with an angry, red handprint.

"Well?" she demanded, after this had continued for several seconds, "Are you not going to strike me back? Are you really so confined in your views of gender roles that you think it inappropriate to hit a _lady, _even if that said lady has done the same to you?" She cackled. "I can assure you, Master Avaric, that I'm quite capable of taking any attack you'd care to inflict on me."

She held her chin up stubbornly, bracing herself for the return slap, sure that she'd wound him up to the point where Avaric would feel emasculated should he _not _hit her back. But no impact came. Slowly, Elphaba lowered her head to its usual position.

"Where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury," Avaric said softly, authoritatively, "I am he born to tame you, Elphie."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elphaba could see the piano stool just an inch away from her right hand. She continued to stare directly back into Avaric's eyes, distracting him as her hand crept out and gripped onto the stool. Then, fast as anything, she pulled it towards her so that she was hold of it with both hands and then shoved it forcefully at Avaric. He drew back instantly, clutching his stomach and groaning. Elphaba tossed the piano stool to the ground, where it landed with a hefty thud.

"Over my dead body will you _tame _me," she hissed at him, "And my name is _Elphaba.__"_

And with that, Elphaba turned on her heel and fled out of the room, almost hitting a stunned Frexspar with the door which he had been standing behind, evidently eavesdropping. Elphaba didn't stop; she continued running until she was clean out of the house and into the gardens. Once outside, she slowed her pace from a run to a fast stride but continued moving until she had reached the swing which stood near the bottom of the house's grounds. It was a simple, wooden structure which had been built before Elphaba's birth, though she knew not for what purpose. It was hidden entirely from the house by a convenient row of pine trees, yet while sitting on it, one was able to peek through them and view the gardens of Colwen Grounds at their finest. The swing stood in an area which was surrounded entirely by greenery, and through this, could almost convince its occupant that he or she was wholly isolated from society, with no buildings to be found for miles around. It was a true escape from the harsh realities of life, and was consequently a spot Elphaba found herself frequenting, to read, or to think. She sat there now and used her legs to push herself gently back and forth, her hands twisting around one another in her lap.

"Elphaba?" Presently, hearing a voice calling her name, Elphaba looked up to see Nessarose wheeling towards her.

"Hello, Nessa," she said emotionlessly.

Nessa came to a halt in front of her, eyeing her sister curiously. Elphaba stared down at her knees.

"Father said you were conversing with a suitor," Nessa said after a moment, "Where is he?"

"Gone, I should presume," Elphaba answered, her tone no less flat.

Nessa's face softened a little in sympathy, "Oh Elphaba, I'm sorry," she said.

"I'm not," Elphaba answered shortly, turning away. There was nothing she hated more than the pity of others, particularly that of her sister. "I threw a stool at him. So you can spare me that look."

"You did _what_?" Nessarose gasped, her face aghast, "But Elphaba, _why_?"

Elphaba sighed. "I got angry," she confessed, then after a pause added very quietly, "And I suppose I was afraid too."

"Afraid of what? He's only a _man, _Elphaba!"

Elphaba looked at her sister's deeply confused expression and frowned. "He told father that I was attractive," she said after a second, "And that this was due to my skin colour and my tempestuousness- the things which repel most men. And he claimed he could tame me. I was afraid that he might be right."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Nessa asked gently, "No man before has been willing to _try _to tame you."

Elphaba nodded. "I know. But it won't do me any good now anyway- no man in his right mind would stay after having a piano stool aimed at his torso."

Nessa looked thoughtful. "If he's so intent on taming you, I don't think he would be put off that easily," she said, "And Elphaba- if he's still here and willing to marry you after that, I think he deserves a fair chance. Perhaps you won't find anyone better."

"No," Elphaba agreed, "Perhaps I won't."

She fell silent then, lost in thought. Much as she disliked Master Avaric, she couldn't deny that the cycle in which she had been caught had been broken. Men were disgusted by her green skin, and she reacted to this repulsion with aggression. Avaric had been the first man to speak kind words about her and to arrest an interest in marrying her. Perhaps Nessarose was right; perhaps she wouldn't receive another chance to marry.

"Will you leave me, Nessa?" she finally asked of her sister, "I need some time to consider this."

* * *

><p>"For heaven's sake, can't you be a little more gentle, Fiyero?" Glinda complained, pushing hard at her husband's shoulders in an attempt to force him out of her, "This is supposed to be about my pleasure as much as yours, you know."<p>

Fiyero stopped thrusting abruptly, and rolled onto his back, panting heavily. "Must you always be such a mood-kill, Glinda?" he grumbled, once he had caught his breath, "Seeing as it's only once in a blue moon that you'll consent to lovemaking anyway, it would be nice to actually _finish _once in a while."

"Oh, that was making love?" Glinda huffed, turning to him with her eyebrows raised. "I thought it was simply you attempting to obtain satisfaction for _yourself. _My mistake, I'm sure."

Glinda turned away from him and tucked herself into a tight ball. She felt unhappy, used and unloved. And once again she and her husband were sleeping with their backs to one another at opposite ends of the bed, neither one of them satisfied.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: This chapter contains physical and sexual abuse- and though it isn't by any means explicit, I advise you not to read it if you have a strong adversity to those particular subjects.

Chapter 3

"Just think, Elphaba! Very soon it will be _me _preparing for _my_ wedding!" Nessa exclaimed, holding against her own face two of the white satin ribbons which she was weaving into Elphaba's hair and beaming. "How wonderful it will feel to have everybody who loves me in the same vicinity, every one of them looking at _me._"

Elphaba merely nodded, feeling that she might vomit if she opened her mouth. Her stomach was in knots. All too soon she would be standing in front of the minister, reciting her wedding vows to Avaric- a man she was still not entirely sure about.

She wore her mother's wedding dress- another Ozian tradition which her father was intent in abiding by. It seemed odd to Elphaba to be wearing a dead person's clothes, and the dress was a terrible fit. Superfluous, white fabric flapped uselessly at her chest and hips, and the lace sleeves finished an inch or two above her wrists, the billowing skirt displaying her ankles for all to see.

"Nessa?" she managed to ask finally, her eyes on her reflection in the looking-glass.

"Mm?" Nessa said absently, looking blissfully past Elphaba, her mind evidently still on her own wedding.

"Do you honestly suppose I'm doing the right thing?" Elphaba asked, "I mean, I barely know the man."

"What?" Nessa was looking at her properly now- or, at least, at her reflection- her expression horrorstruck, "Elphaba, you've finally found a man who wants to marry you! Don't tell me you're having second thoughts _now_."

Elphaba looked carefully at her sister. From a very young age, she had sworn both to her father and to herself to do what was best for Nessarose, always- even at the expense of her own happiness. She knew that now, by doing what she was about to, that she was securing for her sister what she wanted most in the world- to marry the man she loved. How could she possible stand in the way of that any longer?

"No," she lied, "I'm not having second thoughts. Have you finished?"

"Almost," Nessa replied, her expression relaxed once more as she expertly tied the final ribbon in a neat bow. "There, all done."

Elphaba looked once more at her reflection. Nessa had spun her raven hair into an elaborate up-do, and it sat like a spoiled black cat atop her head, leaving her neck looking long, bare and vulnerable. Her face was as green and sharp-featured as ever- she had refused point-blank to allow her sister to plaster it in any makeup, for all the good it would do.

"I suppose I'm as ready as I'll ever be, in that case," she said, rising unsteadily to her feet. For the occasion, Nessarose had unearthed a pair of sparkling, silver heels- which Elphaba could only assume had also once belonged to their mother- and had talked Elphaba into forcing her long, green feet into them.

Unaccustomed to wearing heels of any kind, much less ones which were several sizes too small for her, Elphaba tried to take a step and felt herself wobble dangerously. She attempted several more and felt she might be getting the hang of it- until she tripped and almost fell flat on her face, gripping hold of Nessa's chair just in time.

"Oh, Elphaba, do pull yourself together," her sister hissed at her, swatting at green hands to rid them from her chair, "Please don't embarrass me today."

"I'll try my hardest not to," Elphaba replied- it was all she could promise. They moved together out into the hallway, and Elphaba saw, for the first time, the crowds of people gathered at the bottom of the staircase. This did nothing to calm her nerves, especially considering the fact that she suspected the majority of them were there not to rejoice in the occasion, but simply to witness for themselves the Governor's reclusive, green daughter.

While Nessa waited at the top of the stairs to be carried down later (this was usually Elphaba's job, but being a bride apparently made her exempt from this duty) Elphaba was forced to descend them alone. She did this as slowly and carefully as she was able, gripping firmly onto the banister to support herself. As she did so, she scanned the crowd below her, and couldn't pick out a single familiar face, save for that of her father. It made her uncomfortable to see so many strangers inside her own home- the place which had been her sanctuary for so long- and so she quickly drew her eyes away, concentrating instead on the minuscule steps which would draw her closer to her fate.

After what felt like an eternity, she had finally reached the bottom of the staircase. Frex held out his arm for her to take as she neared him, but Elphaba ignored it- not through any intentional disrespect towards her father, but because she did not want him to feel how much she was shaking. He seemed to take the hint- although he did look significantly displeased at having his arm rejected- and walked at her side instead.

The wedding was set to commence in Centre Munch- a picturesque square which rested just a short distance from Colwen Grounds and bore host to a large, intricate statue of the Wizard of Oz himself. It was before this statue that the ceremony was to take place- out in the open where the public could bear witness to the event, and before the stony, judging eyes of His Ozness.

As she walked towards this destination- as slowly and carefully as she could manage- and the crowds before her parted to allow her access; Elphaba became horribly aware that something was missing. The figurine before which she was to be joined to Avaric was absent of her future husband's presence: the minister who was to wed them stood alone.

She halted abruptly. By her side, her father took several further steps unaccompanied, before noticing that his eldest daughter was no longer by his side. He looked back, and then hastily retraced his steps until he was beside her once more.

"Elphaba?" he hissed at her, "What in Oz do you think you're doing?"

Elphaba spread a palm before her to indicate the vacant passageway through the crowd. "He isn't here," she said simply.

Her father sighed as though she was being unreasonable, which annoyed Elphaba greatly- she didn't feel that the presence of her husband-to-be at his own wedding was too much to ask. "He _will _be here," he stressed, "Now, let us resume our walk, Elphaba. You are embarrassing me."

He took her arm forcefully, and Elphaba had no choice but to place one foot in front of the other to save herself from falling. Inwardly, however, she was fuming. It was true that she knew little about weddings, having never attended one (her father had always favoured Nessarose as the daughter to accompany him to such public gatherings) but she knew enough about them to be sure that it was traditional for the bride to enter the ceremony _after _the groom. Was she the only one who felt that there was something distinctly not right about the fact that Avaric was not yet present?

* * *

><p>Elphaba's arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she felt positively livid. Despite having possessed tremendous doubts about this ceremony, she had allowed Nessarose to dolly her up like a dog's dinner and had appeared in front of half of Oz and his wife in order to be wed to Avaric. And he wasn't here. Dusk was approaching now, and the crowd, having lost interest in the proceedings, had rapidly thinned out- leaving it all the more obvious to those who remained that Elphaba stood before the minister alone.<p>

Her father and the minister had their heads together a short distance away, and were muttering between themselves. Elphaba heard the phrase "give it just another half hour," and felt her fury increase. For just how long did they plan to continue humiliating her?

Elphaba turned her head to look back at Colwen Grounds. The house was not far away at all- perhaps five-hundred feet- and she was sure that if she left now, she would have almost reached it before everybody else had had chance to react.

Surreptitiously, she slipped off her shoes in preparation; but just as she did so, Elphaba became aware of the fact that her remaining spectators- just a short distance away- were beginning to part once more. Several feet from her, the minister and her father noticed this at the same time in which Elphaba had; and the minister moved to stand importantly before her, while her father resumed his place at her side.

"Elphaba," he hissed as he did so, "Return your shoes to your feet at once."

Elphaba ignored him, however. Her attention was very much occupied by the sight of Avaric, who was meandering his way unsteadily through the crowd- but he was not alone. A man stood to either side of him, and it looked suspiciously as though they were struggling to hold him up.

"We're dreadfully sorry," the handsome man to his left announced, while the shorter man to his right looked as though supporting Avaric's weight was taking every ounce of his energy, leaving none for talking. "Master Avaric has been a bundle of nerves all afternoon. But he's here now, which is the important thing."

Together, the two men looked at one another, and then simultaneously ducked away from Avaric. Alone, he took a careful step forward, stumbled and swayed for several moments, and then, miraculously, seemed to steady himself. His eyes moved to Elphaba, and she saw that they were glazed over and bloodshot, his focus tremulous.

"Ah, there's the green beast!" he slurred then, taking several further wobbly steps forward, and reaching to take her by the waist. "Come now, and let us be married!"

"Let us _not_." Elphaba stepped smartly from his clumsy hands, disgust and horror coursing through her.

"Elphaba." Her father had pressed a strong hand to either one of her shoulders and was pressing her firmly to the spot. "Now is not the time." He turned to the minister. "Begin the ceremony, please."

As the minister obediently began welcoming the guests to the event, Elphaba looked incredulously from him, to her father, to Avaric. Was she the only one who had noticed that, after having been hours late, her groom was so drunk that he could barely string two words together?

"Master Avaric," the minister was now saying gravely, "Will you take this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in bonds of Unionist marriage? Will you, under the eyes of the God Unnamed, vow to love her, honour her and keep her, so long as you both shall live?"

"I will." Avaric's eyes were glittering with amusement as he spoke; it seemed he found Elphaba's distasteful glare entirely humourous.

"Miss Elphaba." The minister turned his focus to her, but Elphaba did not move her watchful gaze from the face of Avaric. "Will you take this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in bonds of Unionist marriage? Will you, under the eyes of the God Unnamed, vow to love him, honour him and keep him; to obey him, so long as you both shall live?"

"I most certainly will not!" Elphaba replied fiercely. Or at least, that was what she had been intending to say. But to her horror, her sentence was cut off after the word "will," as Avaric smashed his mouth forcefully against hers. His breath tasted of stale alcohol and his tongue was intrusive as it tried to force entry into her firmly closed mouth. Elphaba pounded his chest with her fists, attempting to rid herself from his inhumanly strong grip, and then finally stamped on his foot with the sharp point of her heel. Finally, Avaric withdrew from her, hopping on one leg and groaning. Elphaba smiled in satisfaction- but then cast her eyes around the square at large and realized that it had become alive with cheers and applause. She had been too late- the damage was done, and as far as Oz was concerned, her vow had just been cemented by a kiss. There was no turning back; and as a woman, she had no right to query what had just happened. That was it: she was married to Avaric, and would have to learn how to be a wife to this drunken fool, come what may.

* * *

><p>"Allow me to assist you," Avaric said, as he placed his hand a little lower than Elphaba's waist, and rather <em>too<em> low for her liking. She wriggled away from him.

"I can manage, thank you," she said, before hoisting herself onto the horse without his aid, her dress riding ungracefully up past her knees as she did so.

Avaric sniggered, and- turning her head stubbornly away- Elphaba rearranged her dress so that it was covering as much of her skin as possible.

"I see you're not the type for riding side-saddle," he whispered, as he climbed up behind her, his breath uncomfortably hot in her ear. "That makes me all the more anticipant of how things might transpire in the bedroom tonight."

"In the bedroom?" Elphaba snorted, "I wouldn't set your hopes too high, _husband dear._ The only pleasure you're likely to obtain tonight will be from your own making."

The ceremony was ended, and Elphaba had provided no further protests regarding her imminent new life. How could she? It was not for her own sake, after all, that she had agreed to be married, but for that of her sister.

But as they began on horseback the journey from Munchkinland to the Emerald City- towards the homestead Frexspar had bought for the two of them- Elphaba could not keep herself from grimacing at the feel of Avaric's arms around her body as he grasped the horse's reins. Despite the fact that everybody else present appeared to have turned a blind eye to the state of Avaric's sobriety, the truth rang out loud and clear to Elphaba. She was married to a drunken, arrogant fool who had hidden his true colours until the moment that they were to be wed. And Elphaba was angry: not merely at Avaric, but also at herself; for not having seen through his lies and false compliments at their first meeting.

"The sun is very bright tonight," Avaric commented pointedly, after several minutes of heavy silence between the two of them.

"The sun?" Elphaba scoffed incredulously, "There is no sun now. You kept me waiting until day had almost faded, and now it is most assuredly dark."

"I must argue with you, I'm afraid, Elphie dear," Avaric replied, and though she was unable to see his face, Elphaba could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm very sure that it is the sun you see in the sky."

"Don't be so utterly ridiculous," Elphaba snapped, already becoming riled by this conversation, "The only source of light in the sky is the _moon. _And stop addressing me by that irksome name. You have no right to bestow upon me affectionate pet names."

"Being your husband, I have every right to bestow upon you any name I choose," Avaric murmured into her ear, "You may be grateful I'm not choosing to address you as _bondservant _or _whore, _for you are both of those things to me now that we are married. And if I say it is the sun in the sky, then you will agree that it is the _sun._"

"I will do no such thing, when it is quite clearly the _moon_," Elphaba growled, even more irritated by this nonsensical argument than she was by the names with which Avaric had branded her. "And I will _never _serve you, much less be your whore."

She was jolted forward abruptly, as Avaric pulled fiercely on the reins, jerking the horse to an abrupt halt. "Say it is the sun, or we go no further," he snarled at her.

Elphaba folded her arms stubbornly across her chest. "It is the _moon_," she emphasized, "And we shall sit here all night if you so insist."

Avaric let out a belligerent growl, before grabbing Elphaba by the shoulders and slinging her mercilessly from the horse. Pain immediately coursed down her right side as it heavily came into contact with the hard ground, but- ignoring this- Elphaba simply pushed herself up onto her elbows and let out a cackle.

"You think you can intimidate me with brute force, Avaric?" she asked of her new husband, who was sitting atop the horse looking extremely displeased that his display of violence had not frightened her, "I can assure you that my father has been using similar tactics all my life, and he has not yet succeeded in taming me into becoming a respectable woman. Now, are we to sit here all night and wait fruitlessly for me to bow to your absurd illusions of authority, or are we going to resume our progress to the Emerald City?"

Avaric was silent for a long time, his breathing loud and shallow; and Elphaba knew that he was battling with himself between spending an unfathomable amount of time outside under the cold, night sky and accepting defeat to a woman. Finally, he looked down at her dispassionately.

"Get back on the fucking horse," he grunted, and Elphaba found the makings of a smile playing at her lips. She had just won her first victory against her husband, albeit a small one. Slowly- as she saw no harm in aggravating Avaric further- she clambered back onto the horse, resuming her position in front of him. Barely had she slung her leg over, before Avaric had grabbed the reins and pulled hard at them, initiating the horse into a swift gallop. Caught off guard, Elphaba slipped and almost fell to the ground once more, but Avaric's arms were firmly around her body, holding her in place.

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><p>The house Frexspar had chosen for his daughter and her new husband to reside in was positioned on the outskirts of the Emerald City: far enough from Colwen Grounds to keep her from visiting too often, but not so far into the City that the price would be positively extortionate. It was a very ugly, modern house: it was too symmetrical and was adorned with grey pebbles which gave it a bleak and dismal feel. The clump of trees which grew before it were old, dark green, and contorted into strange positions like elderly gentlemen struggling to bend. And yet, as the house came into view, Elphaba felt a surge of relief. The day had been draining and the journey long and tiring; and she was anxious to enter her new house simply so that she could lay down and sleep. Their possessions had been delivered prior to the wedding and the house was pre-furnished, so Elphaba did not see any reason why she would not be able to retreat directly to bed.<p>

But as she began to climb the staircase, wondering vaguely which of the doors on the landing hosted the master bedroom, and whether she would claim that or one of the smaller ones as her own; Elphaba heard an unwelcome voice address her from the lower hallway.

"And where might you be going in such a hurry?"

Elphaba sighed and closed her eyes briefly, hoping that Avaric was not about to draw her into another silly argument about whether or not it was night.

"I am going to bed, as we are now well into the early hours of the morning and I want nothing more than to go to sleep," she told him wearily.

"Sleep?" he questioned immediately, "Aren't you forgetting something, Mrs Moncrieff?"

"I don't believe so," Elphaba replied warily, flinching slightly at the name with which he had addressed her.

"Well, I beg to differ. I believe it has slipped your mind that this is our wedding night, Elphie."

"_Elphaba. _And much as I would like to forget the fact that I am now married to you, that thought is still very prominent in my mind."

"Then surely you will remember also just what it is customary for couples to do on their wedding night?" He took a step up the stairs towards her, a leering smile crossing his face. "I am very anxious to know, Mrs Moncrieff, does your curious skin affliction cover your body in its entirety?"

"You will never know," Elphaba replied, turning firmly away from him and continuing up the stairs.

"But Elphie." His smile was far too confident now, as he followed behind her, far too comfortable. "Do you not wish to experience the sensation of having a man enter you? Do you not wish to know what love feels like?"

"I don't know what love is," Elphaba told him, entering the first bedroom she saw and attempting to close the door behind herself, "But I do know that it is something you will never be able to show to me."

"You may be right." Avaric placed his foot in the door to prevent it from closing, and forced his way into the room. "But as I am quite possibly the only man who will ever wish to sleep with you, I should think it in your best interest to allow me to do so."

He moved right up to her and pressed his body close to hers. Elphaba recoiled, but there was no empty space behind her due to the presence of the bed. She stumbled, and Avaric took advantage of this by pressing his hands forcefully to her shoulders, forcing her onto her back, her lower legs still hanging uselessly from the side of the bed.

"Get the hell _off_ me," Elphaba snarled, her fingernails scraping his face as she tried to claw at his eyes, trying anything to prevent his intrusive hands from progressing any further up her thighs than they currently were.

"But why should I?" Avaric sneered. He had managed to drag Elphaba's dress up to her waist now, and she stopped scratching at his face in favour of attempting to desperately pull it back down. "When you gave your consent for us to be married, Elphie, you gave your consent for me to do to you exactly as I please."

"I consented to nothing," Elphaba growling, thrashing on the bed as she attempted to free herself from Avaric's clutches. He removed his hands from her briefly in order to undo his trousers, and Elphaba tried to take advantage of this by scrambling from the bed. But her feet had barely touched the floor, before he had caught her by the waist and tossed her back down as roughly and easily as a child might throw a rag doll.

"No running off now," he murmured in her ear, his hands trailing back under her dress and towards the waistband of her undergarments.

The performance which Avaric inflicted on her was brutal and unloving. His hands gripped her upper arms tight enough to form bruises as he pinned her to the bed; and Elphaba had to clench her teeth to prevent herself from crying out as he forced himself into her again and again. Elphaba possessed an innate need to be in control, always; and this sort of helplessness was what she feared most. She lacked the strength to force him to desist, and eventually she stopped trying. Defeated, her limbs dropped onto the bed, limp and useless, and she concentrated merely on keeping her eyes closed tightly enough to repress the tears they desperately wanted to void. She was determined not to cry. Not here, not now, not for this. Not in front of him.

For a while, it seemed the torture would never end. But in time, he withdrew himself from her and removed his weight from her body.

Elphaba permitted herself finally to open her eyes, taking in slow, deep breaths of fresh, unobtrusive air. She didn't want to look at him, but knew she must. Her eyes locked steadily on his.

"Happy now?" she queried, her voice calm.

"Not especially," Avaric responded, looking down upon her in disdain, "For a woman so monstrous, I'd have expected much more, and yet you're as cold and hard as a board of wood." He cast his eyes mockingly over Elphaba's exposed form. "And how was it for you, my dear?"

Elphaba looked resolutely back at him, her gaze not faltering. "I've had better," she said, and then directed her eyes down to his manhood, a smirk unfolding across her face. "Bigger, too."

"Lies," Avaric growled, "You've never had a man before in your life, and now you're destined to have nobody other than me."

"That suits me just fine," Elphaba told him calmly, "I have never wanted nor needed anything from men in my life, and now, following that experience, I'll be quite content should I never meet another man again."

And upon these words, she turned away from him onto her side, and closed her eyes, not bothering to slip under the blankets or resume her clothing. A moment later, she heard the door slam, signalling Avaric's departure.

Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut all the more tightly, trying in vain to rid from her mind the painful image of Avaric forcing himself upon her. Despite her nonchalant words and insistence to herself that her husband's actions had left her unaffected; she couldn't prevent her eyes from burning with hot tears. She should be destined for so much more than this; she was capable of achieving so much. And yet, she remained a prisoner in her own life, restricted and limited in every way imaginable. It was only sex, she knew: and she had never possessed any false hopes that losing her virginity might an exceptional or special event. And yet, this didn't prevent the hurt from coursing through her as she realised her loss of innocence marked a complete transition into a life she hated. It didn't prevent her from feeling used and worthless. The curse of her green skin had been the cause of her suffering yet again, and then and there Elphaba made a promise to herself. A promise to never again trust the words of another man for as long as she lived.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **This chapter is being posted a few days earlier than I'd anticipated for those of you who absolutely couldn't wait any longer for our lovely ladies to meet! So yes, I'm still in sunny California and I'm having a very nice time, thank you for asking ;). As always, I don't know what's working well and what isn't without feedback from you guys, so reviews are greatly appreciated!

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><p><span>Chapter 4<span>

Tearing her eyes from the book she was presently absorbed in, Elphaba glanced warily at the ominous-looking package which had just been tossed at her side and then into Avaric's smirking face. It was the following afternoon, and Elphaba had spent her first morning as a married woman trying her utmost to avoid her husband. Nightmarish memories of the previous night were still prominent in her mind, and Elphaba felt nauseous each time she thought of the way in which she had allowed herself to lie there, so utterly helpless. She should have done more to prevent him from taking control of her, she knew. Avaric was undoubtedly stronger than her, but Elphaba could not suppress the feeling that she could have fought him off if only she had tried a little harder. She felt angry and ashamed at her own weakness, and reiterated to herself at frequent intervals her vow to steer clear of all men and their false words.

Initially, Avaric had made Elphaba's avoidance of him surprisingly easy, for he had left the house early that morning. This had provided Elphaba with the opportunity to investigate her new surroundings, and she had discovered that the house contained a library, in which she had taken refuge for the morning.

But now it was early afternoon and following his return, Avaric had taken it upon himself to invade her sanctuary, bringing with him the unwelcome interruption of a mysterious, brown, paper package.

"What's that?" she asked him tiredly, already far too sick of these games.

"A present," Avaric answered. "Don't you wish to see what it is?" he added, when Elphaba turned her attention disinterestedly back to her book.

"I don't wish for anything, save to be left alone," Elphaba answered, her eyes not leaving the page.

"Now there's something of a monumental statement," Avaric said; and to Elphaba's disapproval, he sat down beside her, "I am quite sure that you possess other wishes beside that. Wouldn't you like to look and feel pretty, just for one night, my darling wife? Wouldn't you care to discard these drab garments and slip into something rather more feminine?"

"Those sound more like your wishes than mine," Elphaba replied dryly, but still she took the package from where it lay beside her and ripped it open. "I thought as much," she said, as something flimsy and blue fell from the brown paper, "A dress. And just where are you planning on taking me in this silly thing?"

"To a party," Avaric replied, and he rose to his feet, clapping his hands twice as he did so. This undoubtedly being their cue, several maids dutifully entered the room, all of them clutching paper packages similar to the one Elphaba had just opened, or else black leather cases containing Oz-only-knew-what.

"Make her look stylish," Avaric told the women, as Elphaba looked on incredulously, "Kit her out in the clothing of a real woman, and simply, well- try your hardest to disguise the fact that she's nothing more than an unsightly, repulsive cucumber, so that she doesn't look _too _terrible on my arm tonight."

And then, leaving her in the hands of his maids, he was gone. Fuming, Elphaba crumpled up the dress as though it were merely a part of the packaging in which it had arrived, and tossed it to the ground. She couldn't fathom how she had ever believed, even partially, that Avaric could possibly find her attractive: it seemed all too clear to her now that she had never been anything more to him than a means to her father's money.

"Ma'am?" The maids were eyeing her tentatively, and Elphaba turned to glare at them. "We have been instructed to make you up and style your hair."

Still steaming, Elphaba closed her eyes and began to count silently in an effort to steady her anger. Once she had reached ten, she opened her eyes and cast them across the circle of nervous maids.

"Fine," she said tersely, "Do as His Highness had ordered you. But first leave me in private whilst I change into this wretched thing."

She waited until the women had slunk obediently from the room, before bending to collect the dress from the ground. It wasn't- she thought, as she held it up- really so terrible. It was the sort of dress Nessarose usually wore, with its glistening blue sheen, flowing skirt and lacy wing-like arms. But it was exactly the kind of dress Elphaba usually avoided. There was absolutely no use in wearing pretty things when she herself was so hideous; it was far easier to simply dress for comfort than it would be to attempt to look pretty and fail entirely.

Still, Elphaba put the dress on. She was curious and besides; she had already lost the little dignity she had possessed to begin with; why not go the whole hog?

And to her surprise, it was a perfect fit. There was no full-length mirror in the room in which she could admire the transformation in its entirety, but she was able, at least, to view her head and shoulders. The neckline was flattering, she realised grudgingly: it fell just off her shoulders, drawing attention to her abrupt collarbone; and the colour didn't clash too severely with her skin.

Frowning in frustration, for she had wanted the dress to look dreadful and displease Avaric, she called her new maids back into the room.

"Oh, you look wonderful, ma'am!" the youngest gushed as she entered, seemingly unable to control herself, "Like a true lady!"

"That'll be the day," Elphaba snorted, allowing the young women to gather around her and begin fussing with her hair, "Now let's just get this purgatory over with as soon as possible."

By the time Avaric had re-entered to check upon the status of the makeover he had organized, Elphaba had become bored of the affair and had returned to reading her book.

"Now watch out!" she hissed, as one of the maids came close to putting her eye out with an odd black wand, "I'd like to keep my sight in both eyes, if you _don't _mind."

"Ah, my dear Elphie," Avaric sneered, coming closer so as to obtain a better view of his maids' handiwork, "What a lady you are becoming."

"Oh please," Elphaba said, with a humourless laugh, impatiently brushing away the last of the maids and climbing to her feet, "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit." She stepped over to the mirror and glanced over her reflection. Her first reaction was surprise: her unruly hair had been teased into a sleek topknot, leaving just one or two curls to hang prettily alongside her face which had, in turn, had its features elaborated upon so that they no longer looked so pointed and razorlike. While Elphaba would never go so far as _beautiful _or even _pretty _as way of describing herself- she was still green, and no amount of makeup would ever change that- she had to admit that she didn't look nearly as hideous as she usually did_, _at any rate.

"Hmph," was all she said, however; not wanting to convey any of these feelings to Avaric as she turned to face him. He had dressed for the occasion himself, she found, in a brilliant blue, satin suit which he wore over a cream shirt with an exuberant number of ruffles protruding down its front.

Elphaba could not resist smirking. "Are we to be attending a party as you so claim, or rather a panto, in which you are to be making a surprise performance?" she asked, "Or do you simply intend to arrive at this party considerably overdressed, with aim to make a laughing stock of both of us?" She spoke to provoke, wanting to make Avaric feel as self-conscious as she herself felt. For once, however, he did not rise to her bait.

"With a vegetable on my arm, I don't believe I could possibly make any more of a laughing stock of myself than I will already be doing," Avaric responded crudely, "Now shall we proceed?"

He nodded to a single maid to his left, who was now alone in clutching a package which remained unopened. She tore it open obediently, and offered to Elphaba its contents, which consisted of a pair of white silken gloves and a pair of blue sparkling high heels.

_And there dies my last remaining molecule of dignity, _Elphaba thought as she slipped both on grudgingly; grimacing as she envisioned herself falling flat on her face.

The party which they were to attend was set to commence at a house considerably more extravagant than the one in which Elphaba currently resided, though not nearly so grand as Colwen Grounds. _Sunview Cottage, _Elphaba read, as the carriage pulled into the courtyard, though the house was no cottage by any stretch of the imagination. It was four storeys tall and set in a gravel-filled courtyard which boasted an extravagant water fountain, featuring a beautiful nymph. She held aloof in one hand a crown; and it was the prongs of this from which water gushed. Elphaba shot a distasteful glance at this feature, before shaking her head at the pretentiousness and staggering on towards the front door.

As they neared their destination, Avaric jostled in beside her and swept one of Elphaba's arms neatly through his. She growled through her teeth at this, but didn't pull away abruptly as she so wanted, feeling that with one sudden movement she might send herself flying.

"Avaric, dearest!"

Elphaba blinked twice as the front door was flung open and she found her sightline suddenly engaged by a flurry of magenta skirts which clashed horribly with its occupant's red hair. "How simply delightful to have you here! And- oh…"

The woman's excited chatter suddenly broke off as she viewed Elphaba in unhidden wonder. Elphaba stared back at her with equal distaste to that with which she was sure she was presently being judged.

"Elphaba," she introduced herself pointedly, extending her hand.

The woman stared curiously at her hand for several moments as though unfamiliar with the concept of a handshake, before glancing unsurely to Avaric, presumably looking for confirmation as to whether or not green skin was contagious through silk gloves. Rolling her eyes, Elphaba returned her hand to her side, and pushed past the red-headed woman through to the house, possessing no desire to be left standing out on the doorstep any longer like some homeless beggar-woman. Behind her, she could hear Avaric apologising profusely for her intrusiveness, but paid him no mind, instead searching for the room in which the party was to take place.

She did not have to look far, as it was not unclear in the slightest which room was the ballroom. The sound of obtrusive jazz music played deafeningly, and people were constantly filing in and out of one particular doorway: two-by-two, man and woman, as though boarding the Ark.

Elphaba entered solo, and immediately took advantage of the glass of champagne offered to her by a passing butler, which she downed in two hefty gulps, before searching for a seat. Just as she was settling herself in a little wicker one as far from the dancefloor as she could manage, Elphaba felt a hand at her shoulder and looked up into the furious face of Avaric.

"One night," he breathed at her, "Only one night is the length of time I am asking you to control your rudeness and behave like the young lady you are."

"Did we not already establish that I am not a lady?" Elphaba asked impatiently, pushing his hand from her shoulder and sitting down, "There are plenty of young women here. Dance with one of them if you will; I shan't care in the slightest."

A distinctly crafty look passed over Avaric's face. "Fine," he said, taking a step backwards towards the dancefloor, "Fine, I will."

Elphaba watched in mild amusement as he immediately fought his way to the centre of the dancefloor, where he took it upon himself to cut into the middle of a heavily-involved-looking couple and begin dancing with the attractive, young lady. Why should it be acceptable for men to behave in such an uncouth manner, she wondered fleetingly, when it was considered so inappropriate for women to behave much the same?

She looked over the women on the dancefloor: every one of them filled with elegance and poise as they performed each dance-step with meticulous precision. Why did she find it so difficult to be like those women? Would she want to be like them, even if she possessed the required skills? They were all the same, after all. They wore the same sort of dresses and styled their hair in the same way, according to what was currently fashionable. They performed the same dance-moves. They were all married to wealthy husbands, to whom they were obedient and whom they depended on entirely.

Elphaba didn't believe she wanted to be one of those women at all. She believed she had been born with an innate need for something _more; _born with the ability to question the lifestyle set out for her. And yet, tonight, she was married to a man she didn't love; she was dependent on her father for money; and hell, she even looked like a high society woman with her shimmery, blue dress and intricate hair-do.

Irritated with the level to which she had allowed herself to conform, Elphaba rose to her feet. She had always sneered at these well-to-do women who were incapable of making decisions for themselves, convincing herself that she was capable of being _independent, _and therefore somewhat above them. And yet, if she continued the way she had started, she was well on the way to becoming one of them.

She hobbled her way past the dancers and back through the door via which she had entered. Then she paused. Now what? She had half a mind to return to the carriage and demand to be taken back to her homestead; but then what? A night spent alone with only her books for company until Avaric arrived home in a drunken stupor?

Instead, Elphaba swept her way past all the couples who were greeting one another with false bursts of joy and through another door into a rather more secluded hallway. She was heading for the lavatory- wherever that might be- in the hope of washing off some of this absurd makeup, unraveling her ridiculous hairstyle, and generally making herself look a little more natural- but before she could decide which direction she needed to head in, something caught her eye.

A door to her right stood ajar, and inside Elphaba had caught sight of the corner of a grand piano which beckoned invitingly. Impulsively, she entered into the room and closed the door firmly behind her so as not to encourage intruders.

Inside the room, she made her way over to the piano and tried the lid. To her joy, it was unlocked. And so, with little remaining concern for those many others with whom she presently shared the house, she kicked off the treacherous shoes she wore, wriggled her fingers from her gloves, and swept her naked green fingers experimentally across the keys.

The sound which the object emitted as she scaled the keys from left to right was so tempting, so alluring, that Elphaba felt she had left the scene entirely. No longer was she in a house with six-dozen strangers; no longer was she married to Avaric. All that remained to exist to Elphaba was herself and the beautiful instrument before her. She paused to pull vigorously at her hair until it was free from its restrictive binding; and then, carefully and freely, she began to play.

* * *

><p>Glinda frowned in frustration as she entered <em>another <em>wrong room. She hadn't much sense of direction at the best of times, and Pfannee's house was positively a maze to her. Despite having been to an entire collection of parties here, she had once again lost her way upon returning from the powder room.

But then, without warning, the sound of blissful, soft piano music had filled her ears- the antithesis of the blaring jazz music which was presently playing in the ballroom. Glinda paused, then, just as if answering to a calling of some sort, she turned and made her way toward the music as willingly and unknowingly as a lamb to the slaughter.

She soon came upon a room which she had never entered previously. The door had been firmly closed, but when she tried the handle, it was not locked. So, intrigued, Glinda entered.

The sight which met her eyes took her by surprise. In fact, Glinda was not at all sure _who _she had expected to find seated at the piano; but it had certainly not been a woman with flowing, raven black hair and shoeless feet, her blue dress slipping daringly from her shoulders as she allowed her fingers to sweep tirelessly across the keys.

Glinda stared with unadulterated transfixation and overwhelm. This woman was exotic and otherworldly- like nobody she had encountered before in her life. And the tune which stemmed from the vast instrument was beautiful- hauntingly so. It reminded Glinda of dreams, of freedom and independence, and of all her wistful thoughts; and she felt she had no choice but to stand as still as a statue in the doorway, utterly mesmirised.

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><p>After a time, Elphaba found herself filled with the sense that she was not alone in the room. Slowly, she stopped playing and let her hands drop from the keys, and then turned to look behind her. A blonde stranger stood in the doorway watching Elphaba peacefully. Her presence was not intimidating in any way and nor did it seem like an intrusion. She was like the water nymph in the courtyard: still and serene, immutably so.<p>

Elphaba stared back at her a moment, feeling almost as though she knew this woman from somewhere. For a moment, they simply looked at one another; and then Elphaba, realising what she was doing, turned swiftly away and rose to her feet.

Finally, the stranger spoke.

"Oh no, don't leave!" she protested, "You play so beautifully."

Elphaba hesitated, already halfway towards the door opposite the one occupied by the blonde woman. Half of her wanted to wrench it open and leave before she was forced against her will into a conversation, but there also seemed to be something- an ambiguous force, perhaps, keeping her in the room. Slowly, she turned.

"Thank you," she managed to mutter, her eyes dropping to her feet. The dainty, polished heels she wore held none of the comfort of her usual boots, however, and she remained uncertain.

"What tune was that?" the blonde was now asking chirpily, unfazed by Elphaba's wariness, "I don't believe I've heard it before."

Elphaba didn't answer for a moment, her mind suddenly filled with haze as a memory entered her mind unbidden. Her younger self hunched on a piano stool, doggedly playing different combinations of chords until her hands ached and her mind was consumed by the frustration of not being able to find the correct one. For years, she had run to the piano each time she had found herself alone in the house, and now Elphaba gave an internal shiver as she remembered how her hands had flown repeatedly over the keys, sometimes hitting them too hard in her frustration and causing them to make stark, unattractive sounds.

"I don't know the name," she said, then added after a pause, "It was something my mother played to me as a small child."

Her father had returned home earlier than she had expected one day, after Elphaba had managed to recreate a good part of the song. She had been playing blissfully, unaware of anything around her, but her father had recognised the tune, and before Elphaba had even realised what was happening, he had slammed the lid of the piano forcefully down on her hands. Elphaba remembered the insufferable pain and the way she had screamed until her father had placed a large, suffocating hand over her mouth and warned her to stay silent. And so that was what she had done while the doctor had bandaged three broken fingers and her father had uttered some absurd story about how she had been playing with Nessarose's wheelchair and had gotten her fingers caught in the spokes. That was what she had done, entirely poker-faced, when her sister had pestered her about what had really happened, refusing to speak until Nessa had grown impatient and called her a "treacherous beast."

"Then your mother had exquisite taste in music."

Elphaba's arms wrapped almost involuntarily around her body. Despite the fire blazing merrily in the corner, she suddenly felt rather chilled. "I think so too," she said, her voice as impassive as she could make it.

Her father had locked the piano after that day and Elphaba had never been able to find the key, though she had looked. It was not in any of his usual hiding places: not in the desk where he kept his whisky bottles, nor in the drawer where he kept the belt he had once used to whip her. Tonight was the first time she had touched piano keys in almost twenty years.

"Who's your husband?" the blonde stranger asked, perching on the piano stool and running her fingers softly over the keys. "I don't play," she added, glancing up and noticing Elphaba watching her questioningly, "My old Ama attempted to teach me several times, but it quickly became apparent that I didn't have the patience. I'm a dreadful student. I love to listen, though."

Elphaba nodded. "Avaric is my husband," she managed to answer, through gritted teeth, "Avaric Moncrieff."

"My, with what a hostile tone you speak your husband's name!" The woman said, turning her attention from the piano to gaze at Elphaba in astonishment, "But, of course, I know who you are now. I don't know your husband much personally, but Mister Avaric and my own husband are well acquainted. He's Fiyero Tiggular and I'm Glinda Tiggular." She stood from the piano stool, came forward while smoothing her dress and then held out her hand. Elphaba touched it briefly with her own before withdrawing it quickly. She did not know quite what to make of this high society woman who seemed to have suddenly taken it in her interest to engage her in conversation.

"You're one of Munchkinland's Governor's daughters, aren't you?" Glinda continued, still seeming oblivious to Elphaba's trepidation, "And yet I haven't seen you at any social gatherings previous to this."

It was not a question, and yet Elphaba realised that she was expected to answer. "I'm not really the social type," she shrugged, and Glinda laughed endearingly.

"Well, I figured as much. Why else would you be playing the piano in here with no shoes on your feet whilst everybody else is dancing and forming acquaintances?" She smiled, before resuming her seat and then indicating the space beside her on the piano stool. "Would you care to show me what else you play?"

Elphaba's eyes followed the gloved hand reproachfully as it patted the seat beside Glinda. The seat was not large as it was, and the vastness of Glinda's dress allowed for little free space. "Why?" she asked suspiciously, convinced there must be an ulterior motive behind this request. Glinda looked like the sort of woman who would be content at the very heart of a party such as this one- Elphaba could think of no sensible reason why she would choose instead to sit in a room empty aside for a green woman and listen to piano chords.

Glinda blinked. "Well, I love to listen, as I said," she said, and then smiled again, "Piano music is one of my secret pleasures. Did your mother teach you?"

Elphaba frowned at the imposing question. "I don't know that she ever had the time to teach me," she answered shortly, "She died before I was old enough to learn."

Glinda's eyes widened at this. "Oh goodness, I'm sorry," she said quickly, "Truly, I am. I don't often think before I ask questions. I didn't mean to pry."

Elphaba was saved the trouble of figuring out how to respond to this when the door beside which she still stood was flung open. She leaped back to prevent herself from being hit, but was not quite fast enough and the door caught her arm. Rubbing the spot at which the impact had occurred, Elphaba glanced up to see who the intruder was, and quickly felt hatred flood through her. Avaric filled the doorway with his imposing presence, as his eyes flew across the scene. Whatever he had expected to find in the room other than Elphaba, however, certainly seemed not to be an elegant blonde woman. Glinda stood with a welcoming smile at the sight of Avaric, and advanced to him, beaming.

"Mister Avaric," she greeted, extending a gloved hand. Elphaba watched him closely as he surveyed her new acquaintance, feeling startlingly ready to have sharp words with him if he uttered any degrading comment. She found herself surprised, however, as after a moment he simply bent and kissed Glinda's hand respectfully.

"Lady Glinda," he said with a short bow and a leering smile, "A pleasure, as always."

After a moment, though, he turned his head to Elphaba and his eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance.

"Did I go to the trouble of having you dressed for nothing?" he demanded, and Elphaba noticed Glinda start at the heated tone. She herself, however, did not flinch, staring him out.

"I did not express to you any desire to be dressed like a ridiculously overstated doll," she answered sharply, "I am not your doll, and do not wish to be treated like one. I am your wife, however reluctantly."

And with that, she stormed to the door, not bothering to collect her shoes or gloves. She did not care for those prissy accessories; Avaric could be the one to grovel on the floor for them, not her. Elphaba knew she was likely to receive a thrashing later for having spoken back to her husband, particularly in the company of Glinda, and yet for once she did not care. She had wanted to marry in order to escape her father and the house in which she had grown up, and yet her husband was no better. He was just as dominating and objectifying as her father had been, if not more so. Was there no way out of it? Was she, as a woman, destined to never be anything more than a _whore _or a _bondservant, _as Avaric had stated?

She thought of Glinda, and her fury increased further. The woman had seemed so gentle and pleasant, and yet she too had a husband whom she had vowed, at her wedding, to evermore obey.

"Back home, thank you," she said to the startled carriage-boy, who evidently hadn't anticipated her return quite so soon. Inwardly, Elphaba cringed to herself, at the realisation that she was now referring to the house she shared with Avaric as _home. _But then, her thoughts on Avaric, she imagined fleetingly the look which might appear on his face once he realised the carriage to take him home was missing, and smiled to herself. Maybe he would have to walk home. That would serve him right.

Satisfied, Elphaba settled herself into the seat of the carriage and gazed out of the window as she allowed her thoughts to stray. She found herself thinking again of Glinda- her serene, statuesque form when Elphaba had become aware of her presence in the doorway, and her inquisitive questions. Elphaba could not remember anybody ever having taken such an interest in her before and could not fathom what Glinda's motive had been in doing so. But after a further few moments of curious contemplation, Elphaba decided to dismiss these thoughts. It had been a one-off meeting, after all, and she was not likely to see Glinda again, for she was adamant that she would never attend a social convention again. Even so, however; Elphaba found she seemed to inexplicably lack the ability to keep curious thoughts of Glinda from her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Ma'am? There's somebody here to see you."

"Nessarose?" Elphaba asked, immediately rising. She had been wondering when her sister might take it upon herself to visit her.

"No, ma'am, not your sister." The maid stepped out of the doorway to reveal a small, blonde figure behind her. Elphaba felt her heart perform a strange sort of leap when she realised it was the same woman she had spoken to at the party.

"Mrs Tiggular?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise, "To what do I owe this unexpected honour?"

"Please; call me Glinda." She stepped into the room. "You left these behind, so I took it upon myself to return them to you."

Elphaba glanced down and saw that Glinda was holding the shiny, blue shoes and silk gloves which she had left behind when storming out of the piano room.

"Thank you," she said, moving forward to take them from her, significantly puzzled as to why Glinda would go to all this trouble to return a pair of shoes to her. Her hand brushed Glinda's as she took the items back and Elphaba tensed, drawing away quickly.

When Glinda continued to stand there, Elphaba found herself growing uncomfortable. "Would you like me to show you to the door?" she asked finally.

Glinda looked at her curiously. "My, you certainly aren't the friendly type," she observed, "I'd have hoped I might be offered a seat and perhaps a refreshment after having travelled across town in order to return your shoes to you."

"Oh." Elphaba glanced behind her and used her arm to indicate the room invitingly. "Well, pick a seat then. There's plenty of choice."

Glinda continued to stare at her for a moment- Elphaba wished she would stop doing that; she had no idea what Glinda was seeing or expecting to see and it unnerved her. Finally, however, the blonde woman shook her head and Elphaba thought she saw a flicker of something like amusement pass across her face.

"Is something humorous?" she asked, as Glinda took a seat; opting for a plump, pink pouffe, rather than one of the more sumptuous armchairs that Elphaba might have expected her to choose.

"Not humorous _per se_," Glinda replied comfortably, adjusting her skirts. She was dressed rather less extravagantly today, though her buttercup yellow gown was still bright enough to attract a considerable amount of attention and elaborate enough to cause Elphaba to feel significantly underdressed. "You're rather unique, is all. I've never before met anyone remotely like you, and I don't know quite what to make of you."

Elphaba frowned as she took a seat opposite Glinda, setting down the shoes and gloves on the floor beside her. She had been called _unique _before, but it was usually intended as a social veil for _strange _or _peculiar_: a masked insult. From Glinda's mouth though, it sounded different- almost like a compliment.

"I should think there are few who have met someone like me," she said finally, "One doesn't encounter many green people."

"No, one doesn't," Glinda agreed conversationally, "But I didn't just mean your skin colour. I mean _you _as a whole. I've only met you once before now, and you've already managed to surprise me a dozen times."

Elphaba smiled a little, despite herself. "I've never been good at following social convention," she admitted.

Glinda laughed her charming laugh. "So I've noticed. And while we're talking surprises, I have a little one for you."

Elphaba tensed a little. A surprise? "I'm not sure I'm all that fond of surprises," she said dubiously.

"Oh, you'll like this one," Glinda told her cheerfully, opening her purse, "I've been thinking all week about that song you were playing on Saturday and what a shame it was that you couldn't remember what it was called. And then I remembered a spell… Oh, just close your eyes!"

"A spell?" Elphaba questioned, keeping her eyes very much _open, _"You're a sorceress?"

"Yes. Not the most accomplished one, mind you. But I try. Now close your eyes!"

Though she could not give herself a reason as to why, Elphaba automatically found herself obeying. No sooner had her eyelids shut than the room became filled with soft piano music. A very old, fragile image entered into Elphaba's mind uninvited- her mother seated at the piano stool, her head thrown blissfully back so that her dark curls cascaded past her shoulders, her hands moving over the piano keys as supple as liquid.

And then the music had stopped and Elphaba was brought abruptly back to reality. She opened her eyes and found- to her bewilderment- that they were burning like fire. She rose a hand to her face in confusion, and quickly found the source of this- hot tears had materialised within her eyes and were threatening imminently to run in heavy torrents down her cheeks. Teeth clenched in pain and heavily embarrassed, Elphaba rose her sleeve to her face and pressed it hard to her eyes, attempting to remove the drops of moisture from her skin.

When she was finally able to look again at Glinda, Elphaba found the other woman staring at her in horror and concern.

"Oh sweet Oz, I _am_ sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you'd enjoy-"

"It's nothing," Elphaba interrupted her curtly, mortified by her brief loss of control but thankfully once more returned to her usual, abrupt self. "I thank you for your gesture, Glinda, but you really should be leaving now. I have things I need to attend to."

"Well, how very inhospitable of you," Glinda huffed, rising to her feet and fluffing out her skirts, "Seeing as I've travelled here for the pleasure of your company- bringing a thoughtful gift with me, I hasten to add- I should think you might at least request that your maid lay some tea out and engage in conversation with me for a time. But now I see that my efforts are wasted."

She had taken one or two steps towards the door, but before she could reach it, Elphaba swept in front of her, blocking her path.

"Sit," she told Glinda sternly, before moving to the door herself and growling orders to whichever startled maids happened to be in the hallway beyond to have some tea prepared at once. When she turned back to Glinda, she found the other woman still poised as though to leave, looking sufficiently stunned.

Smiling a little to herself, Elphaba settled herself back in the chair in which she had previously been seated, and indicated again for Glinda to take a pew opposite her.

Her expression now betraying a great amount of uncertainty, Glinda obediently repositioned herself delicately in the chair opposite.

"Well," she said, her tone inflected with surprise, "That's much better, I suppose. Now- what is it proposed that we talk about?"

Elphaba shrugged her bony shoulders. "How about you tell me about yourself?" she suggested finally, "I'm not very good at talking about myself, but I'm quite confident that you are."

"That doesn't sound very much like a compliment," Glinda said, with a slight frown which caused her nose to wrinkle endearingly, "But if you insist."

Elphaba watched the blonde woman as she thoughtfully twirled a single curl around one finger, evidently considering what to say.

"Well, I'm from a little Gillikinese town called Frottica originally," she said finally, "It isn't the most cosmopolitan place in Oz, but it's very pretty, very safe… very boring. I grew up without encountering a single unfamiliar face or meeting a single interesting person. Nothing ever changed, people never changed. It was nice in a way, because it was something constant- something to rely on. But once you know everything you need to about those around you, there are never any surprises. I was bored; I needed change. That's part of the reason for my allowing myself to marry so young, I believe- I was only sixteen, and yet I was already consumed by the desire to distance myself from my place of upbringing, to experience someplace entirely different. And I like living in the Emerald City. It _is _different. Here I can be the person I want to be, rather than remaining stuck as the person whom everybody expects me to be."

"And who do you want to be?" Elphaba asked curiously, and Glinda smiled shyly.

"I want to have connections; be _known,_" she admitted, "I want to become one of those women whom everybody looks up to, whom everybody models themselves upon."

"You don't want for much," Elphaba muttered satirically, and Glinda looked at her sharply.

"Oh really?" she quipped, "Why did _you_ marry, then?"

Elphaba sighed; she should have seen that coming, she supposed. She paused for a few moments, wondering how much it was wise to share with Glinda.

"It wasn't through choice, as such," she allowed finally, "I value my independence and the idea of becoming a wife and ergo eternally subordinate to a man had never appealed to me. I married mainly for the sake of my sister- in order that she herself could marry. And in addition to that, I'd been a burden to my father for long enough. It was time for me to begin life anew, and the only way to do that was to take on a husband. So when Avaric requested my hand in marriage, I put up little resistance."

She didn't look at Glinda until the end of her explanation and found then that the other woman was watching her, her blue eyes vast as saucers. Elphaba looked away quickly, her face burning. She had allowed herself to become carried away talking, she thought, reprimanding herself; she had shared too much.

"How very selfless of you," Glinda said finally, "I don't think I could do that, you know. Popsicle and Momsie always taught me that while others undoubtedly matter, I must put my own needs first, always; for other people will only ever consider me as important as I consider myself."

Elphaba smiled slightly. "Yes, I can certainly envision that," she said, "And yet, I'll bet you never wanted for anything as a child. Everything you desired, your parents handed to you without hesitation, yes?"

Glinda frowned at her, obviously put out by this assessment. "You seem to think you understand an awful lot of things about me," she accused, "I don't believe you know me well enough to make judgments of that sort."

"Perhaps not. But I'm familiar with your type, Glinda. You're the sort of woman who believes she can swan through life whilst doing the minimal amount of work- and you'll probably succeed in doing so. You're beautiful and you're popular- and those are the things which generate the most respect for women in this day and age. It's only girls like me who must work in order to get to where we want to go."

"I hadn't realised you wanted to go anywhere," Glinda reminded her sniffily, "You said you only married because of your sister. At least I have ambition."

"I may not have any remaining faith in the world, but that isn't to say that I don't have ambition," Elphaba shot back, becoming riled now. She pushed her chair back and climbed roughly to her feet. "I have dreams just the same as everyone else, Glinda; mine are just a little less achievable than those of most. So do forgive me for not caring to share them with you."

She placed her hands flat on the coffee table and fought to regain control of herself. Elphaba was renowned for her short temper, but this was different- something about Glinda's comments seemed to get under her skin in a way she couldn't quite comprehend.

When she was able to move her eyes back to the other woman, Glinda was staring at her; her blue eyes big and unblinking. Then, wordlessly, Glinda lifted her right hand and reached across to her. Elphaba stiffened as the hand came to rest on the sweep of hair which had fallen across her face during her outburst. She shifted her eyes to the table and stared down at it, unmoving, as Glinda slowly drew away this curtain of hair and tucked it gently behind her ear. Elphaba waited for the other woman to come to her senses and draw away from her in repulsion, but this never happened.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes and found that Glinda was still staring at her- but not in shock or disgust. For the first time, a person Elphaba barely knew was staring not at her skin, but directly back into her eyes. Elphaba swallowed nervously, suddenly conscious of the fact that Glinda had not removed her hand but was continuing to cup the side of her face. Several seconds late, she flinched away from the touch; Glinda drew away her hand and replaced it on the table.

"Why is your complexion that shade?" she then asked softly.

Elphaba stared at her incredulously. The tactful way in which Glinda had spoken the words made it sound as though she possessed a skin colour just slightly different to that of most, rather than it being an unsightly shade of green which disfigured her appearance entirely. She fumbled for the seat on which she had been sitting and lowered herself into it.

"I would tell you if I knew myself," she told Glinda, fighting to keep her voice steady, "My father likes to believe that it is the outward manifestation of a marred soul."

"But you disagree?" Glinda prompted gently.

Elphaba jerked her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't believe I have a soul at all, marred or otherwise."

She paused then, swallowing thickly, trying not to look at Glinda. Her hands were inexplicably trembling- an after-effect of her anger, or something else?- and she ground them into fists to force them to desist. Then, suddenly, she felt a pressure on her left hand and looked down at it. Glinda's soft, manicured hand was on top of her own clenched one, and was stroking it comfortingly. Nettled by the persistent attempts at physical contact, Elphaba removed her hand promptly, but managed to move her eyes finally back up at the other woman, and resumed speaking while looking at her.

"I've never been like other people," she told her slowly, "I don't fit into a single one of the stereotypes directed towards women of my age- or of any age, in fact. Perhaps my abnormal skin tone is simply a way of warning others to keep their distance from me- something it is very successful in doing, if this is indeed the case."

Elphaba noticed Glinda's hand twitch forward as though seeking the touch of her own once more, and her irritation morphed into distinct confusion. Whether Glinda was simply trying to counter the words she had just spoken, or whether there was some other motive behind her behaviour, Elphaba could not recall anyone ever having touched her in the tender, sympathetic that Glinda had previously- usually people were meticulous to avoid even brushing hands with her- and she was not able to fathom why someone she barely knew would continually reach for her hand.

"Surely you don't truly believe that?" Glinda finally asked softly, and Elphaba shrugged again.

"I don't know what I believe," she said, "I don't have much time for beliefs in general: they're far too subjective for my liking. Usually, when the facts are not plain, I don't like to waste my time attempting to speculate on what _might _be the case."

They were interrupted at that moment as a maid entered the room bearing a laden tea-tray. Glinda waited politely for her to position it on a table between them, before continuing the conversation.

"But beliefs formulate the foundations of many people's lives," she commented thoughtfully, "While not necessarily spiritual, most people have at least _some_ beliefs on which they form their values and these beliefs consequently become pivotal to important decisions made. Oh, but listen to me going on!" she added then, flushing in mild embarrassment and focusing her eyes down to the teapot. "Shall I be Mother?"

"No, hold on a second," Elphaba said, unthinkingly catching Glinda's wrists before she could turn the tea into too much of a distraction, "What you were saying just then was very interesting. Why is it that you feel self-conscious about making such thought-provoking statements?"

Glinda stared down at Elphaba's hands for a few beats and the green woman, suddenly realising what she was doing, hastily withdrew them from the other woman's wrists.

"I suppose the conversations I'm usually involved in don't warrant, or indeed welcome thoughtfulness," Glinda admitted finally, "That's precisely what I mean about you being different, Elphie- I've been here but twenty minutes and we're already discussing our philosophical views! You can't say that's _normal_."

Unable to help herself, Elphaba scowled. She turned her face away, hoping to hide this, but Glinda was apparently more intuitive than she appeared, for she eyed the other woman inquisitively.

"Whatever's the matter _now_?" she asked, the smallest hint of exasperation in her tone.

Elphaba sighed. "Elphie," she admitted, "It reminds me of…- That is to say, that's how Avaric addresses me."

"Ah, I see," Glinda said, and to Elphaba's relief did not press the matter.

They fell silent for a while, as Glinda poured the tea, and the two of them sipped companionably. Elphaba took the opportunity, as she was drinking, to survey the other woman a little more closely. She could quite easily dismiss Glinda as a simple high-society woman, for she looked much the same as the many other married women whom she had met. And yet, she regretted having made this initial judgement, for there was undoubtedly something more to Glinda that Elphaba couldn't put her finger on just yet, which rendered her distinctly different to all those other women.

"So why _did _you travel all the way across town simply to return my shoes to me?" she asked finally, breaking the silence as her curiosity got the better of her.

Glinda looked thoughtful as she took a dainty sip of her tea; her perfectly unwrinkled forehead creasing into the smallest frown.

"I felt something that night," she admitted, "There was something which made me come into that room where you were playing, and from the moment I saw you, I instantly felt intrigued by you. I'm not sure whether or not I believe in Fate, but I felt that meeting you was important for one reason or another, and that it might be beneficial to continue our acquaintance."

"Ah I see," said Elphaba, smiling slightly, "So you did not come here for altruistic reasons, as you so claim, but because you thought that seeing me again might profit your _own_ life."

"Now, that's not what I-" Glinda began indignantly, but then she noticed the twinkle in Elphaba's eye and, suddenly understanding that she was being ribbed, began to giggle endearingly. "Oh, you mean thing!" she said, "And I thought you were about to reprimand me for being so selfish!"

"No, I was merely teasing you," Elphaba said with a slight grin, setting her tea down, "Forthright, green people do joke sometimes too, you know."

"I wouldn't know these things. You're the first forthright, green person I've had the pleasure of meeting," Glinda smiled, draining her own cup and setting it down on the table.

"Pleasure? I must dispute that most people would maintain that my company is more of a curse than a pleasure."

"No, it's most certainly been a pleasure," Glinda insisted, but then she stood up, her eyes moving to the clock on the mantelpiece, "I really must be going, however. I thank you for the tea and conversation, but my husband will be missing me."

"Of course." Elphaba stood up and moved to the door to see Glinda out, but then, quite unexpectedly, the other woman reached to her and drew her into an embrace.

"It really has been nice, keeping your company," she said sincerely, as Elphaba stiffened in discomfort, unsure quite how to respond to this unforeseen display of affection. "You've made me think and you've been pleasant- well, for the most part, in any case- and that's more than I've come to expect from many women nowadays."

"Likewise," Elphaba agreed, as Glinda finally released her. She'd expected herself to feel relieved once the touching had been discontinued, but instead found herself oddly disappointed. "I expect I'll see you at some social gathering or another. I'll be the one sticking out like a sore thumb and wearing practical footwear."

"Or no footwear," Glinda supplied, beaming. "Well, I'll be seeing you, Elphie."

As she showed Glinda to the door, Elphaba found herself not only unperturbed by the irritating nickname but also _smiling_ at Glinda's reference with regards to her feet. And what was more, she was _still _smiling after she had closed the door behind the blonde woman and bid her goodbye. Now what in Oz was happening to her?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I'd like to thank **Yelene-ryudream **for the lovely, long review that I really wanted to reply to but couldn't, as you don't have private messaging enabled. And a big thanks to everyone else who's reviewed too!

Oh, and a special shout-out to anyone who can spot the Oscar Wilde's 'The Importance of Being Earnest' reference in this chapter :)

Chapter 6

Elphaba's next encounter with Glinda came quicker than she had anticipated, when she received through the post an invitation to a garden party. It was to be hosted by a woman named Milla, whom Elphaba had heard of but had never met, and her husband Flynn. Despite believing that she had been invited out of necessity more than choice, and despite the fact that Avaric had made the decision not to attend (Elphaba suspected that the lack of alcoholic beverages available might be the fundamental factor in this choice), she decided to accept the invitation. Curiosity to discover more about Glinda, for whom she now held a considerable amount of intrigue, coupled with a burning desire to leave for a few hours the house which she now felt she was being held hostage inside; caused Elphaba to wake upon Tuesday morning with the full intention of spending a fair few hours with other married women.

She dressed simply in a plain, navy blue dress and her faithful old boots, but then, on a whim, positioned a wide-brimmed straw hat on her head, though whether this was to protect her face from the blazing sun or to add something extra to her outfit, Elphaba couldn't say herself.

It wasn't until she had arrived at the house that afternoon, that Elphaba began to have second thoughts about her decision to attend. She was unaccustomed to being sociable and wanted to avoid at all costs a repeat of the night of Pfannee's party. But it was too late now to retract her decision, and so she proceeded resolutely from her carriage and walked purposefully to the front door of the country manor house.

She was greeted this time, not by the hostess herself, but by a butler, who nodded wearily at her before escorting her through the house and out into the gardens.

"I do hope you will find your visit pleasurable," he told her stiffly, before directing her to the far end of the garden at which a group of women sat- a laden table between them. Elphaba cast her eyes over the contingent of men who stood congregated under a canopy much closer to her, before soldiering on past them and towards the wives.

Elphaba wet her lips and inhaled a deep breath of air to prepare herself before approaching the table. As she neared them, the women- one by one- turned their heads to look at her, their expressions betraying varying amounts of scorn and incredulity at her appearance. This would have been enough for Elphaba to have turned on her heel and walked abruptly away again- but then Glinda looked over her shoulder, and the small smile that her lips hinted at in the midst of her face's surprise was enough to keep Elphaba approaching. Finally, she drew to a halt just short of the empty seat beside Glinda.

"Good afternoon," she said to the table at large, her throat inexplicably dry. She indicated the vacant seat before her. "May I sit here?"

The women exchanged glances, and Elphaba witnessed many unsubtle headshakes and poorly hidden smirks before one of them decided to speak up.

"I'm afraid that seat-" she began scornfully, but before she had completed her sentence, Glinda had cut across her.

"Of course you may!" she said, and Elphaba turned her head to look at her. Her eyes met inquisitive blue ones for a moment or two, before she had to look away again.

"Thank you." She drew out the seat and then lowered herself stiffly onto it, her hands clasping together in her lap.

"Elphaba," Glinda was saying chirpily, "This is Milla and Shenshen and Pfannee- you attended her party, so you know her- and Geta and Augusta. Ladies, I'm sure that you are familiar with Avaric's wife, Elphaba?"

There were some murmured 'yes's and nods, before the one called Geta turned purposefully to Milla.

"As I was saying, dearest, your freesias look positively radiant this year," she told her, beaming, "I had no idea that there were quite so many flowers out here on the East border of the Emerald City!"

Elphaba struggled to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. The Eastern Emerald City was bordering on Munchkinland, which was the most rural area of Oz, so quite clearly there were bound to be _abundant_ numbers of flowers around that particular border.

"Oh, flowers are quite as common here as people are in the Centre!" Milla giggled with an airy flick of her hand, before turning with a frown to Elphaba.

"So Avaric is your husband, is he not?" she enquired.

"Yes, he certainly is," Elphaba said, once again suppressing an eye roll. Was it really so obligatory for everybody to enquire about her husband upon meeting her? Did they feel she was incapable of being her own person, independent of Avaric?

"And where is he today?" Milla pressed on, her eyes flicking over to the group of men and discovering his absence.

"Probably in the tavern, drinking excessive amounts of liquor, as usual," Elphaba told her bluntly, "What do I care? Now mightn't we talk about something other than my husband? For while I'm confined to spending every single day with him, it is not in my interest to discuss him during these joyous few hours in which we are separate."

There was a short, shocked silence, and then Milla cleared her throat nervously. "Then what is it proposed that we talk about?" she asked somewhat desperately, apparently attempting to address everyone in the group but Elphaba.

A further moment of quiet followed, before Glinda glanced to Elphaba and then piped up: "Elphaba and I had a rather interesting conversation regarding people's personal philosophies the other day. We were discussing whether or not beliefs are beneficial to people's lives."

When the other women stared at her blankly, Glinda glanced to Elphaba, her eyes illustrating her need for help, and the green woman nodded in confirmation. "I maintained that beliefs are unhelpful, as they are far too subjective to provide any adequate assistance with important decisions," she asserted.

The other women glanced at one another helplessly, before Milla spoke up again, obviously considering it her duty as hostess to maintain the flow of conversation. "Well, I think that as long as we pray to the Unnamed God regularly, just in case, we'll all be quite fine, " she said with a forced laugh, before reaching for the teapot in the centre of the table. "Now, would you care for some tea, Mrs Moncrieff?"

"But that doesn't-" Elphaba began to protest, before she witnessed Glinda signalling at her a warning headshake. "I mean, yes," she said, with forced amiability, "Some tea would be just... Fine."

As Milla poured the tea and asked the usual questions regarding cream and sugar, Pfannee reignited the topic of flowers and this seemed to carry the women through conversation-wise for a good while. Elphaba remained silent, however, not wanting to put another skewer in the works. She was rather glad, however, when Glinda rose to her feet and announced that she was going to the powder room.

"Oh, but wouldn't you accompany me, Elphaba?" she asked then, smiling brightly, "It is somewhat obligatory, after all, for women to visit the powder room in pairs."

Usually, Elphaba would have offered a sarcastic comment regarding the silliness of one needing supervision in order to relieve herself, but- anxious to escape from the other women for a time- she rose to her feet swiftly.

"I'm sorry about the other women," Glinda said furtively, once they were a safe distance from the table, "You shouldn't have come, really. Oh, but I'm glad that you did," she added, taking Elphaba's hand and gripping it reassuringly as the green woman opened her mouth to protest, "I don't think I could stand another two hours of discussing fuchsias and whose husband is currently making the most money."

Elphaba found her mouth curving into a slight smile. "I'm very glad that you said that," she said, "Let's get out of here."

"Out?" Glinda came to a halt, her eyes wide with horror, "Oh, but where would we go?"

"Go? Glinda, it may seem as though we're in the countryside, but we're still in the Emerald City!" Elphaba laughed, "We can go anywhere you like! Let's just please get away from those tedious women."

The other woman's brow was furrowed in thought as Elphaba smuggled her around the side of the house, through the gate, and towards her waiting carriage. Suddenly, however, Glinda stopped and put her arm out to halt Elphaba also, her eyes sparkling.

"Can we go out dancing?" she asked, positively quivering in excitement. "I've always wanted to go out dancing!"

Elphaba shook her head in confusion. "Glinda, I'm sure you go out dancing quite frequently," she reminded the other woman, "The party-"

"I don't mean _ballroom _dancing!" Glinda interrupted, "I mean _dancing _dancing!"

"Oh," Elphaba said blankly- and then felt her eyes widen as she understood. "_Ohhh_."

"Yes!" Glinda was beaming now, as she climbed into the carriage. "Do you know somewhere we can go?"

"Well, I don't claim to be an expert in these things by any means," Elphaba said weakly, settling herself beside the other woman whilst slightly regretting her offer to Glinda to go _anywhere, "_But I'm sure we can find somewhere if we search hard enough."

* * *

><p>"Oh my goodness, I'm not so sure about this!" Glinda declared nervously, as the carriage finally pulled up on a little side street just out of the city centre.<p>

Elphaba sighed. "Glinda, this was _your idea_," she reminded the other woman, for perhaps the sixth time during their journey.

"I know but, oh, look at it!" Glinda said, and Elphaba looked. True, the area didn't look quite like one Glinda might usually frequent- the bar which the carriage-boy had suggested when she had requested his input looked significantly seedy with its flickering neon lights and grotty windows.

"If you want to go back-" she began, but Glinda waved a blithe hand in front of her face, cutting her off.

"No, no, we'll be fine!" she said, standing up and bending to exit the carriage door.

It wasn't until the two of them were approaching the door to the bar that it occurred to Elphaba just how much they might stand out in a place like this: their clothes betrayed the fact that they belonged to a class higher than the patrons who might frequent it, making them obvious targets for pocket-thieves and drunkards.

"Stay close to me, Glinda," she warned the other woman, linking her arm protectively through Glinda's as they stepped inside.

Elphaba had never visited a bar before, and she felt the smallest flicker of excitement that she was doing something slightly rebellious at last; something which was not the norm. Though it was still light outside, the drapes had been drawn to give the illusion that it was evening, and the open candles which littered the low, wooden tables provided an air of daring enticement. Groups sat on little wooden stools clutching tankards of ale or else tumblers bearing a dark amber liquid, and a large area of the concrete floor had been left unfurnished to serve as a dance floor. Despite the fact that it was still early, men and women frolicked uncaringly to the music of a live saxophonist who played in the corner.

It was a far cry from the meticulously precise ballroom dancing which Elphaba knew Glinda was used to. Couples invented their own dance steps, or else abandoned steps altogether in favour of waving their arms and skirts wildly in the air.

Elphaba glanced at Glinda, who was surveying the scene before her with wide eyes. Presently, however, the blonde woman turned to face her and Elphaba witnessed a sly smile cross her pretty features.

"Should we get something to drink?" she suggested, but then her face fell dramatically. "Oh, but I haven't any money!"

"I have money," Elphaba assured her, keeping her arm firmly locked through the other woman's as they trooped across to the dingy bar which stretched across an entire side of the room.

The barman viewed the pair of them with raised eyebrows as they approached. "And what can I get for you?" he asked, sounding somewhat sceptical that two women such as themselves should be alone in a place such as his bar.

Glinda turned cluelessly to Elphaba for help, and the green woman glanced thoughtfully over her shoulder. "What are they drinking?" she asked, indicating with a thumb the people behind her.

Smirking now, the barman took two tumblers from under the bar and poured into each a generous helping of amber liquid from a plain, brown bottle, before pushing the glasses to the women.

"First one's on the house," he said, as Elphaba reached into a pocket of her dress for some money. She raised an eyebrow, before thanking him and- drinks in hand- making a hasty retreat.

"That was nice of him," Glinda said happily, taking a tumbler from Elphaba and eyeing its contents curiously. "Now what in the name of Lurline is this?"

Elphaba held the remaining tumbler up to her eyes, before lowering it and taking a sniff. "Whisky," she confirmed, as the all-too-familiar stench entered her nostrils.

"Oh!" Glinda bit her lip, her eyes shining with the exciting danger of it all. "Is it safe to drink, do you think?"

"Everybody else seems to be," Elphaba said with a shrug. "Bottoms up?"

She raised her glass to her lips and Glinda did the same.

The fiery liquid stung her throat as she gulped it down, before rising to her eyes. She choked, just as the liquid passed down through her chest, providing a warming sensation as it went.

"Goodness!" Elphaba's eyes moved to Glinda as she spoke and realised that the other woman had taken only the smallest sip, yet her face was scrunched up in disgust. "What a strange taste!"

"I don't know that you're supposed to taste it," she admitted, mildly amused, "I think the idea is simply to tip the whole thing down your throat."

"_All _of it?" Glinda asked in astonishment.

"Yes," Elphaba confirmed, "Now drink the rest of that and we can go and dance, just as you wanted."

Glinda took no further coaxing: she lifted the tumbler to her lips once more and poured the remaining contents into her mouth, her eyes firmly closed as she did so.

"Ugh," she said then, with a shudder, "What a peculiar sensation."

"Indeed," Elphaba grinned, before taking Glinda's empty glass from her and placing it with her own on a nearby table. "Now; may I have this dance, madam?" she asked, holding out her arm for Glinda to take. The other woman immediately did as she was intended, and together, the two of them made their way across to the party of enthusiastic dancers.

Two further tumblers of whisky apiece and several energetic dances later, Elphaba could feel herself growing distinctly light-headed. She glanced over at Glinda around whom a small crowd of dancers had now congregated and smiled slightly. Gently, she reached out and touched her shoulder. "I think I'm going to sit this one out," she said loudly, attempting to make herself heard over the music, "I'll only be over there if you need me."

Glinda simply nodded happily, not pausing in her frantic movements. Elphaba moved away and set herself down on one of the little stools just a short distance from the other woman. She watched Glinda dance and smiled secretly to herself. It felt refreshing to see Glinda with her perfectly polished makeup and restrictive clothing looking entirely uninhibited and carefree as she danced. As she watched, Elphaba felt a strange feeling come over her: an inexplicable frisson which began somewhere in the pit of her stomach and moved stealthily upwards until it had consumed her body in its entirety. She drew in a sharp intake of breath and raised her hand to her temple- perhaps that was enough alcohol for one day. And yet, still, she couldn't remove her eyes from Glinda. The blonde woman's eyes were bright and happy; her expression relaxed; her body, as it entered into each dance move, like a work of art.

_She's beautiful, _Elphaba thought to herself; and then chided herself for feeling so surprised. Of course Glinda was beautiful. Everything about her was perfect, from her dainty, impractical shoes to her impeccably curled hair. And yet, Elphaba couldn't help but feel that there was something more to Glinda's striking appearance than any conventional notion of beauty. The way in which she danced with no consideration for how others might be viewing her, her complete ease in a situation of which she had no experience: _those _were the things Elphaba found beautiful about her; and she felt a sense of warmth flood through her as it occurred to her that she must be one of the few people who had seen Glinda so free from her social bindings.

In time, however; Glinda's eyes strayed over to Elphaba and she smiled as she stopped dancing. Rather unsteadily, she moved over to the green woman and took the stool beside her, shuffling it until it was very close to Elphaba's side.

"Can you believe that's the first time I've tasted whisky?" Glinda giggled then, as she leaned giddily into Elphaba, her head coming to rest against the other woman's shoulder.

"I couldn't imagine," Elphaba mumbled, far too conscious of how close the other woman currently was to her. Unused to being touched in such a manner, she found it both pleasant and unsettling.

Glinda said nothing more and so slowly, unsurely, Elphaba snaked out an arm and wrapped it stiffly around the other woman. She wondered if Glinda might draw away from her abruptly and insist they leave at once, but she did nothing more than let out a contented sigh and nestle closer into Elphaba's side. Somewhat pleased, Elphaba tried to relax. But _trying _to relax was something of a contradiction, and she found the feat near to impossible.

Still, they remained this way for a while; not speaking, but simply sitting close to one another, the eyes of each on the small crowd of dancers before them. Elphaba wondered vaguely if Glinda was really watching them, for she knew that she herself wasn't. Her mind wouldn't stretch any further than the small blonde woman nestled into her side.

Suddenly, however; Elphaba felt a feather-light touch on her thigh. She gave an involuntary twitch before looking down and discovering Glinda's hand on her leg, softly tracing patterns into her skin through the thin material of her dress. Instantly, Elphaba felt distinctly ill-at-ease with the entire situation and stood hastily, forcing Glinda away from her.

"We'd better be making a move," she said, whilst trying to control the tremulous beating of her heart, "I highly doubt that anybody will notice my disappearance, but you'll certainly be missed."

She thought she noticed a slight flicker of disappointment cross Glinda's face as the blonde woman climbed to her feet, but quickly dismissed the notion, feeling that she must have been mistaken.

* * *

><p>As the carriage approached the manor, both women witnessed Fiyero in the gravel courtyard, pacing anxiously up and down.<p>

"Glinda!" he said, sounding torn between annoyance and relief, as they stumbled from the carriage, "Where have you _been_? And have you been _drinking_?" he added incredulously, as his wife minced unsteadily towards him.

"No!" Glinda giggled, but then paused and gave a hiccup, causing Elphaba to cringe. "Well, maybe just a little," she admitted with a further giggle.

Fiyero looked to Elphaba, his expression betraying his shock, and she hastily fought to conceal her smirk.

"I'd better get you home," he said finally, attempting to extract his wife from the green woman to whom she was clinging, "Really, I'd have expected better from both of you. You're married women in your late twenties, not a couple of lower class teenagers who know no better!"

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Fiyero!" Glinda said affectionately, resisting Fiyero's attempts to steer her away as she took hold of Elphaba's hand. "I've had such a lovely day, don't ruin it now! G'bye, Elphie," she added, leaning to the other woman and kissing her cheek, "Thank you so much."

"It's been a pleasure," Elphaba mumbled, as Glinda finally succumbed to Fiyero and began walking alongside him to her own carriage. As she watched them retreat, her hand rose unconsciously to her cheek and she touched the spot where Glinda's lips had been, her brow furrowed in confusion.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"And then she came and sat next to me- just like that! In full view of everyone!" Glinda toyed with her skirts, frowning, and then looked back up at Poncia. "But the strangest thing was, I should have been entirely mortified; but I wasn't at all. I was… _pleased _that she had decided to sit by me. I can't even begin to fathom what that was all about. And then, when I said that I wanted to go dancing, she simply took me without a word of protest! And oh, it was like nothing I've experienced, but I had such a lovely time, Poncia!"

Poncia smiled at her- almost knowingly, Glinda thought. "It sounds as though you've found a friend for life in Mrs Moncrieff, Ma'am," she ventured.

"Yes... Yes, I suppose I have," Glinda agreed, though she felt distinctly confused. Was this real friendship, then? Were all the people whom she had, before now, considered friends, simply mere acquaintances?

Making the decision that she would pay a visit to her new friend, Glinda readied herself quickly and then found Fiyero, relaying on him the story that she would be calling on Milla in order to apologise for her disappearance the previous day. He was still displeased with her about her misadventures with Elphaba, and she hoped that supplying him with this story might help to make amends.

After arriving at the house of the Moncrieffs and being shown into the sitting room, Glinda settled herself on her favourite pouffe and prepared to be greeted by Elphaba. While she was waiting, however, Glinda could not help but notice that something of a commotion seemed to be taking place in the room above her. Intermittent crashes, followed by muffled shouts proceeded frequently through the ceiling. Glinda frowned, wondering if something of a kerfuffle between two of the servants was taking place and whether she ought to alert somebody- but before she could make the decision to do so, the noises had been stifled, and presently afterwards, Elphaba appeared in the doorway.

"Elphaba!"

Glinda's initial excitement at the appearance of her new friend soon faded abruptly, however, as she witnessed the harassed look on the other woman's face- it didn't seem that Elphaba was happy to see her at all.

"Glinda, what are you doing here?" the green woman asked, nowhere near as amicably as Glinda would have liked, or indeed expected given the time they had spent together the previous day.

"Well, I came to see you, of course!" she replied, somewhat hurt.

"But you saw me just yesterday," Elphaba reminded her impatiently, "And while I must admit that I enjoyed your company sincerely; this morning really isn't the most convenient time for a cup of tea and a prattle."

"Well," Glinda huffed as she climbed to her feet, distinctly stung now, "I suppose I'll leave then. I see that my presence here is not welcomed or desired."

"How observant of you," Elphaba commented tersely, standing unceremoniously aside to allow Glinda to pass.

Glinda turned her eyes to the other woman, shocked and upset at the hostility with which she was being received. Elphaba's eyes were fixed on a particular spot below her feet, and her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her breathing, as Glinda neared her, sounded oddly sharp and disjointed as though she had been running or else recently winded.

In one final attempt at amity, Glinda reached out a hand and gently touched the other woman's elbow. She watched Elphaba's eyes swivel to her hand, saw her frown relax very slightly, and hoped that she might finally be reaching under this sudden sullen exterior to the kinder woman whom she knew resided underneath.

"Elphaba-" she began gently, but got no further than this before her speech was interrupted by a loud crash which sounded from the floor above them, and was followed by a loud string of curses. As Glinda cast her eyes upwards in shock as though hoping to see right through the ceiling to discover the source of the disturbance; she felt Elphaba place a strong hand to either one of her shoulders and begin to guide her forcibly from the room and into the hallway.

"Elphaba!" she exclaimed, struggling futilely to free herself, "Let go of me at once and tell me what in heaven's name is going on!"

"Something which those pretty, innocent eyes of yours need not be corrupted by," Elphaba murmured in her ear, leaning so close that Glinda could feel her breath, hot at the nape of her neck. "Now, do yourself a favour, my sweet, and get gone from this house."

"My sweet?" Glinda repeated stupidly, highly confused at the sharp contrast between the affectionate pet name and the unfriendly statement in which it had been juxtaposed. She had been forced, against her will, to the front entry by this point; and as Elphaba briefly released her in order to open it, Glinda glanced behind her and up the stairs. There atop them, she saw Avaric, his expression as dark as thunder as he glared down at the pair of them.

"Oh dear!" Glinda said, finally connecting the pieces, "Are you in a quarrel with your husband?"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Elphaba muttered. She steered Glinda through the door, gave a half-glance back at her husband, and then- her expression filled with extreme dislike- followed her outside, closing the door to behind them.

"Oh, but you really shouldn't leave the house if Mister Avaric and yourself are in a fight!" Glinda advised her, biting her lip as she glanced back at the closed door, "Fiyero and I always find that these things are best settled immediately- they only grow worse if left to stew."

"Yes, well," Elphaba said, leading them quickly through the courtyard and towards the gate, "Avaric and I have rather a different relationship to that of Fiyero and yourself."

Glinda frowned, considering this. She _had _noticed, during that night of the party, that Elphaba's marriage seemed highly dysfunctional when compared to her own- but she had put that down to the fact that Elphaba was simply rather more outspoken than herself and rather more reluctant to comply with her husband's wishes.

"You know, you would do far better to simply listen to what your husband tells you to do," she suggested, once they had left the grounds of Avaric's house and moved- rather too aimlessly for two unaccompanied women, Glinda thought- out onto the road. "He does know what's best for you both, after all."

"And what makes you say that?" Elphaba growled at her.

"Well, he's your husband," Glinda answered with a laugh, "What a silly question."

At this, Elphaba stopped short and took hold of Glinda's arms, frowning down at her. "Glinda, I don't ever want to hear you say that again," she told her severely, "You're far better than that."

Glinda blinked, not understanding. "Better than what?" she asked, bewildered.

"Better than the sort of woman who allows herself to be pushed around by a man," Elphaba clarified sternly, "The word 'husband' is simply a title- it does not provide him with automatic, absolute superiority over you."

"Well, but of course it does!" Glinda insisted. "I _gave _Fiyero that superiority by agreeing to be his wife, and you gave Avaric the same! And Elphaba, you're _hurting _me," she added in complaint, as Elphaba dug her fingers deeper into her arms at these words.

Quickly, Elphaba released her grip. "I'm sorry," she said, and she did sound as though she meant it. However, she seemed unable to refrain from continuing the discussion, and when she spoke again, the look of apology faded from her eyes. "But Glinda, can't you comprehend what nonsense you're talking? Why in Oz should we allow ourselves to be subordinate to others, simply because we were born female? Why should we be treated any differently because of an affliction we were born with, something which we cannot help?"

Elphaba was growing visibly angry now: as she spoke, she paced rapidly back and forth, her hands wringing passionately. Frightened, Glinda grabbed the other woman's hands and clung onto them, attempting to force her to desist.

"Elphie dearest, all this hysteria is hardly becoming-" she began, but before she was able to continue, Elphaba had wrenched her hands free and given a loud, humourless laugh.

"Maybe I don't _want _to be becoming," she said heatedly, "Why is it so essential that I should appear becoming? Why, I ask you, is it acceptable for men to show rage and passion, while women are expected to remain quiet and dormant? I won't stand for it, Glinda, I _won't_!"

"Sshh, dearest," Glinda told her urgently, casting a look about them. Thankfully the road they stood at the side of was free from passing carriages, as it would hardly do for Elphaba to be seen in this state. She took Elphaba's hands once more, gripping them very tightly in the hope of helping her to see things rationally; but as she did so, the other woman gave a low hiss of pain and pulled them free.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Glinda gasped, placing a hand to her mouth at the thought of hurting the other woman, "I didn't realise I was squeezing so hard."

"You weren't, don't worry," Elphaba assured her, giving a small smile as she adjusted her gloves. Glinda was about to inquire as to why, in that case, she had sounded so pained- when it occurred to her just how odd it was that Elphaba had been wearing gloves inside her own home, as she had not noticed the other woman putting them on as they had left.

"Elphie," she began, then paused, hesitant through her fear of angering the other woman once more. "I mean, Elphaba, dear?" she tried again, this time refraining from using the nickname which she knew bothered the green woman, "Is there something wrong with your hands?"

Elphaba sighed, then- apparently realising that the other woman would persist until she received an answer, gave a short nod of her head. "My skin doesn't react well to contact with water," she said carefully, "I had a slight... accident with the laundry bowl this morning, is all."

"An allergy to water, then? I didn't know that such a thing existed," Glinda said curiously, "How very inconvenient for you."

Though she was intrigued as to why Elphaba had been near the laundry bowl to begin with- hadn't she maids who dealt with that sort of thing?- Glinda chose not to pursue the matter. She felt assured by Elphaba's nonchalant answer that the malady affecting her hands could not be anything too severe, and so allowed the other woman to change the subject of their conversation. The rest of the time they spent together continued without further incident, and after an hour had passed, they walked back to the house in order that Glinda would be in time for the carriage that was to meet her there. As they said their goodbyes, Elphaba paused and suddenly looked at her intently, her eyes sharp, green and penetrative. They seemed to pierce Glinda from the inside out, seemed to take her breath away entirely. Then, almost tentatively, Elphaba drew a gloved hand to Glinda's face and –gently and carefully enough not to aggravate her current skin condition- drew a thumb carefully across her cheek.

"You are," she murmured, "An extraordinary woman, Glinda. Don't let anybody give you the idea that you are not."

And though she did not, by any means, understand what she had done to prompt this compliment; with Elphaba, Glinda _felt _extraordinary. She felt she could do anything, be anybody she wanted. But all she wanted at that moment was to remain close to Elphaba.

Glinda climbed inside her carriage with a contented smile playing at her mouth, a warm feeling inside her chest, and the strong feeling that this statement in Elphaba's voice was more valuable to her than it would have been in any other.

* * *

><p>Elphaba waited until Glinda was safely on her way home, before carefully opening the door to the house. She took several tentative steps inside, listening intently, but heard nothing. Then, catching sight of a passing maid, she hissed to gain her attention.<p>

"You there," she whispered, as the maid turned, "Is my husband home?"

"The master of the house left perhaps twenty minutes ago, ma'am," the maid answered, "I don't believe he's yet returned."

Elphaba nodded curtly to indicate that she was finished with the young woman's time. Her hands now provided a source of constant, throbbing pain, and she grimaced slightly as she unthinkingly put out a hand to grip the banister as she climbed the stairs.

Once in the bedroom, she finally set about the task of peeling off her gloves. They wouldn't come easily; it seemed her wounds had bled afresh over the last hour, and the cheap, black material had become painfully attached to the breaks in her skin.

Elphaba had to pause then and allow herself several deep breaths before resuming her task, but slowly, eventually, she was able to strip the material completely away to reveal hands which were almost entirely covered in angry, open sores.

For a moment or two, she merely inspected them, incredulous that one man's anger could inflict such hideous injury; then reached as carefully as she could into her first drawer for the bottle of remedy she kept there.

The oily liquid burned like fire as she poured a generous amount onto her palms and then rubbed it over her hands, but almost instantly, the wounds began to heal. That was the one positive thing about her allergy, Elphaba considered: that as long as she possessed this potion, its effects were easily remedied.

There was no doubt in her mind, however, that she would suffer further injuries of a similar nature now that Avaric was aware of how profoundly painful water was to her. Despite her attempts to hide it, this had proven almost impossible while residing in the same house as him. He had noticed the way in which she meticulously avoided bathing and washed herself with oils instead, the way in which she flinched from the maids whenever they performed any tasks involving water within close vicinity of her. He had observed that there was a problem, and had put it to the test that very morning.

They had been involved in a heated discussion about Elphaba's conduct the previous day. Avaric had claimed that she had been drunk when she had returned home, that he had smelled on her skin the stench which betrayed a recent consumption of alcohol. Elphaba had argued that he himself was currently more intoxicated than she had ever been, and had questioned his double standard. While bellowing that it was not a woman's place to drink or to question her husband's authority, he had struck her with such force that she had fallen heavily into the wall behind her, winding herself. As Elphaba had mumbled curses under her breath, attempting to steady her breath; Avaric had bellowed orders to the horror-stricken maid who had been washing the laundry in a corner of the room to leave immediately. Then, dragging Elphaba to her feet, he had pulled her to that far corner of the room and forced her hands into the abandoned bowl of soapy water. He had held her wrists in place for a torturous ten seconds as she had writhed and fought against him in agony, and then, as a maid timidly entered to inform Elphaba she had a visitor, had released his grip.

Ignoring his laughter and the excruciating pain as she finally wrenched her hands free of the water, smoking and reeking of burned flesh, Elphaba had merely grabbed the nearest piece of dry material, removed the excess water from her hands, then had taken up a pair of gloves and strode to the door, very vigilant not to allow Avaric to see just how much pain he'd inflicted.

And yet, while she had been with Glinda, Elphaba's wounded hands had seemed manageable. She had hidden the evidence of the occurance partly out of consideration for Glinda- ignorance was certainly the favourable option in a situation like this- and partly because she knew she would have been uncomfortable with the other woman's sympathy. But there was something else too: Glinda evidently believed she was of strong character, and Elphaba had no wish to swap that interpretation for one of fragility. For being the recurring victim of her husband's abuse was a sign of extensive weakness, was it not? And for reasons she was still just beginning to understand, maintaining Glinda's respect for her was of utmost importance to Elphaba.

There was one thing that was massively apparent at any rate, Elphaba thought, frowning as she thought back on Glinda's earlier words. As much as Glinda irritated her with her comformist, unthinking views, she _was _an extraordinary woman and she was too good to condemn herself to a life so dictated by society. And Elphaba was going to work damn hard to make sure she grew to understand that.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Somehow- against her will, almost- Glinda found her meetings with Elphaba growing swiftly more frequent. _Meetings_- that was what she kept referring to them as, for want of a better, less formal word.

"I'm just popping over to Elphaba's for a short meeting!" she would call to her husband, before throwing her coat over her shoulders and heading out of the door before he could stop her to question her as to _why _she was paying a visit to Elphaba yet again- or worse, decide that he was going to _join _her. Those times were the worst. Fiyero coming along meant that Avaric would join their party also- and that Elphaba would make a hasty retreat upstairs. In the absence of her friend, Glinda found herself bored to tears as the two men indulged in conversation with one another, ignoring her entirely, save to make fond comments (Fiyero) or else degrading remarks (Avaric) in her general direction.

In truth, Glinda could not even begin to justify to herself why she enjoyed Elphaba's company so. It wasn't as though the green woman was a particularly pleasant person to be around, after all. Quite to the contrary, Elphaba invariably caused offence to her in some way or other; either through her uncompromising questions, or else her ferocious temper, which she seemed unable to control for very long. And yet, there was something about her that kept Glinda returning. Was it her genuineness, perhaps? Her strength? The fact that she always said what she thought, without pausing to worry over how it might come across to her listener? Or even the way in which she caused Glinda herself to think about things she had never before bothered to consider? Glinda couldn't say. But no matter what it was about Elphaba which she found so endearing, Glinda found herself consumed by the inexplicable need to spend more and more time with her.

The two were, for once, not spending time together at the house where Elphaba lived, but at Glinda's, due to the fact that Fiyero was away attending to some form of upset involving his people in the Vinkus. Elphaba had tried to inquire further as to just what sort of trouble was taking place and how large it was- was it likely to spread to the rest of Oz?- but Glinda had been so vague in her response that Elphaba suspected that even the blonde herself was not entirely sure of her husband's whereabouts. The important thing, Glinda had insisted in her note to Elphaba, was that Fiyero was away and so- save for the innumerable servants and maids- they had the house to themselves.

The potential implications behind these words caused an inexplicable sense of anxiety to arise within Elphaba. Had Glinda simply been referring to the fact that they would be able to meet without the threat of Avaric's presence, which had been a continually problematic factor during their visits? Was she nervous about residing alone in such a large house for an unknowable stretch of time? Or was there some other reason behind her all-too-casual suggestion that they would be alone in the house?

It was proposed that Elphaba arrive at Glinda's house at five o'clock. Dinner would be served at six, which would leave time for 'a drink and a chat'- as Glinda had put it- beforehand. This caused Elphaba to feel even more uncomfortable: while she and Glinda had never before had trouble finding conversation during their visits; these said visits were always of the spontaneous nature. Never before had Elphaba been invited somewhere in which 'a chat' itself was a part of the itinerary, and she couldn't prevent herself from feeling doubtful that conversation might not come so naturally to her when it was so expected of her.

In spite of this, she showed up at the house at five o'clock on the nose, as they had arranged. Elphaba had never visited the house of the Tiggulars before, and had to admit that she was impressed. Unlike her own house, this one was not on the outskirts of the Emerald City, but in the very centre, and was located in an area which Elphaba knew to be very prestigious. The building itself was tall, castle-like and magnificent, with a slight romantic feel to its sumptuous balcony and sculptures of celestial figures which rose about the pillars either side of the front entry. In fact, Elphaba thought, it looked every bit as grand as she might expect the Wizard's Palace to look- though perhaps she was being ridiculous in this assumption. She had never visited the Palace, after all- what reason would she have to do so, save for that of ignorant curiosity? For all she knew, it could be a hundred times more astounding than this particular property.

"I hadn't realised the dress code was so extravagant- I must have missed the small-print," she said derisively, when Glinda responded to her knock. Her impolite opening line was spoken partly through surprise- if Milla had felt too important to greet her guests personally, Elphaba had felt certain that Glinda would have- and yet, she couldn't deny that the statement was not without good reason. Glinda's evening gown of pink and gold was so spectacular in terms of both volume and glitter that Elphaba had to blink several times simply in order that her eyes would adjust to it.

"Hello to you too," Glinda responded cheerily enough- apparently she had grown accustomed enough to Elphaba's unconventional greetings that they no longer bothered her. "Do come inside- Isis has got dinner under control, I do believe. Oh, and allow Caiirn to take your cloak."

Elphaba shrugged off her cape obediently, but raised an eyebrow in surprise when an erect Tiger came forth to relieve her of it. Glinda, catching her expression, merely smiled. "Oh, I do know that it's highly unfashionable for one to have Animal staff these days," she said. "But we've always had several of them employed here, and they're so _nice _that Fiyero and I couldn't even contemplate letting them go when everybody else was dispensing with the Animals working for them. It doesn't bother you?" she added, and her eyes displayed such concern for Elphaba's approval. _She's so desperate to please_; Elphaba thought- and she looked to the Tiger, who was busying himself with organizing her coat so that it fell from its hook just correctly, but was still well within earshot.

"What _bothers_ me is the way in which you can discuss the employment of a group of individuals and _fashion_ within the same breath," Elphaba told her quietly- unlike Glinda she was fighting to keep her voice _low_; "However, I do appreciate the principle in your keeping your staff on in spite of what others are doing. That, I suppose, shows some hint of integrity, even if the rest of that speech of yours does not."

Glinda looked puzzled, apparently unsure as to whether she had just been complimented or insulted; but for once, Elphaba's attention was not on the other woman. Something about Glinda's assertion that Animals as servants were no longer fashionable bothered her greatly. It was true that she had led a sheltered life thus far, but now that she thought on it, it struck Elphaba as odd that she had not, until now, encountered a single Animal since her arrival to the Emerald City. If the books she had read were anything to go by, there were numerous Animals who had accomplished great things in the past, and many an author had claimed that the residents of the City of Emeralds were some of the most varied and colourful people in Oz- so why so few Animals? Could it be that the issue stretched far beyond the sort of servants the upper class chose to employ? Was Oz in the midst of a colossal problem of which she had had no idea?

"Elphie!"

Snapped out of her reverie to find Glinda waving a hand in front of her face, Elphaba brushed it away impatiently. "What?" she asked, rather tersely, annoyed to have been drawn from her thoughts.

Glinda gave a heavily exaggerated sigh. "I asked several times whether you'd like to come through to the sitting room!" she said impatiently, "Now whatever is going on in that head of yours that's rendering you so distracted?"

Elphaba shook her head. "It doesn't matter," she said, already having decided not to share her thoughts on the matter until she had fully established the nature of the problem, "Glinda- do you have a library?"

* * *

><p>Glinda sighed edgily as Elphaba flicked fervently through the pages of her tenth book.<p>

"You know," she said, with seemingly forced patience, "If you bothered to tell me exactly what you were looking _for_, I might be able to help you."

Finally, Elphaba deigned to look up at her. This library was significantly more up-to-date than her own (something which was wasted, she thought, on people like Glinda and Fiyero who probably hadn't opened a book in years) but contained no more information about the matter she wanted to glean knowledge on. It seemed that the Tiggulars were more concerned about owning the latest tomes by the most fashionable authors than collecting books with any real content.

"Your statement earlier- about Caiirn, was it?- got me thinking," Elphaba admitted, "It made me realise the true lack of Animals wandering about the Emerald City at present, and caused me to wonder whether there was not an ulterior reason behind this."

Glinda raised a single shoulder in perplexity, her face blank, and Elphaba sighed. "No, I suppose you wouldn't know, would you?" she asked irritably, "I can't imagine you feel that any issue which doesn't affect you personally is worth your time."

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Glinda said, her hands raising to her hips in the classic signal that a stubborn huff was approaching.

"Do what, my sweet?" Elphaba asked, but then a picture in the book she had open caught her eye, and she turned quickly to look at it. A small animal- or an Animal?- in the arms of a beautiful woman: perhaps an artistic interpretation of Lurline, or else the original Kumbric Witch.

But Elphaba had not gotten any further in her analysis of the picture, before an arm reached out and swept the book furiously from the table before her and onto the floor, where it fell with a loud thud. Startled, Elphaba looked to the owner of the arm and found Glinda standing over her looking positively livid.

"Oh _hello _there," she said sarcastically, as Elphaba stared at her, utterly flummoxed as to where this spell of defiance had arisen from, "_Now _I'm worth your attention, am I?"

"You're always worth my attention, my sweet," she said, truthfully, "However, that book which you've just thrown on the ground-" she pointed sharply at it, "-could well be pivotal to understanding an issue which is bigger than just _you_."

"But what does it _matter _about bigger issues, when they haven't anything at all to do with us?" Glinda asked, raising one foot as though wishing to stamp it in exasperation.

"It _matters_ because obliviousness towards a problem will not cause it to disappear!" Elphaba countered, beginning to grow frustrated with the other woman's ignorance now, "If every one of us bothered only with problems which affected us directly, what sort of a place would Oz become? There would be anarchy, as nobody's voice would be heard at all!"

They were saved, at this point, from antagonising one another any further by the sounding of a bell several rooms away.

"That's the dinner bell," Glinda said, after a second or two had passed, her tone rather steadier now, though it still betrayed a semblance of annoyance.

Elphaba jerked her head in a nod and they she followed Glinda from the room; single file and with a significant amount of distance between them, both physically and metaphorically.

Dinner began as a significantly awkward affair. The table was large enough to seat over a dozen, and though the two place settings were close by one another, Elphaba felt they may as well be sitting at opposite ends of the table for all the conversation they were indulging in. She picked at her portion of roasted pfenix without eating a single bite (she had recently lost her taste for meat of any kind- who was to say that it was not Meat, after all?) and debated silently with herself about how best to fix this rift with Glinda. She was not about to admit that she was wrong, after all- that would mean sacrificing some of her most intrinsic values. Finally, however, it was Glinda who broke the silence.

"I didn't mean to throw your book like that, Elphie," she said, frowning as she toyed with her fork, "I was just angry at being ignored and I-"

"Wanted attention?" Elphaba supplemented, when Glinda paused.

The blonde shot her a look. "I was going to say _lost control_," she said. "But yes," she admitted grudingly, after a beat, "I suppose I _did _want your attention."

Elphaba nodded slowly: she knew about losing control, after all. "Is this a roundabout way of apologising without actually speaking the word 'sorry'? For if it is," she added hastily, when Glinda opened her mouth furiously as though to retort, "Then I'd also like to apologise for ruining your plan for the evening. I realise that you hadn't intended to spend it in the library."

"No, I hadn't," Glinda admitted, setting down her cutlery. She had not eaten much either, Elphaba noted, though she supposed that Glinda's lack of appetite was more due to their argument than any moral reasons. Her insides gave an unpleasant squirm at this thought- was it really possible for her words to have such a negative effect on somebody? Did she need to have more care about the words she spoke on occasion? "However," Glinda continued, "I don't believe that it was an evening wasted. I was with you, wasn't I?"

Elphaba looked up into blue eyes, the dense, orangey light from the chandelier causing them to shine like crystals. She swallowed, and set down her knife and fork. Although she had picked half-heartedly at the potatoes and carrots, she had not touched the meat, and could only hope that whoever had cooked it would not be offended that her hard work had been sent back to the kitchen almost indifferent to the way in which it had left.

The conversation was easier after this: Elphaba tried her hardest to be gentler with her words in the hope of keeping them civil for the remainder of the night, and she did not mention Animals again, although she intended to research the matter more fully once she received the chance.

"I suppose it's about time for me to be taking my leave," she finally said with reluctance when the gold-trimmed clock on the wall betrayed the lateness of the hour, "It would hardly do for me to be travelling home after dark."

A slight look of nervousness crossed Glinda's features at these words, causing Elphaba to frown: surely Glinda was not _that _wary of being alone? The house was swarming with servants, after all; and surely, having grown up without the company of brothers or sisters, the blonde was somewhat used to her own company?

"I was wondering if you'd like to spend the night?" Glinda offered carefully, getting up and beginning to bustle with their dinner plates instead of looking at Elphaba, causing it to become difficult to read her expression. "It seems senseless, after all, for you to be setting off home now when there are ample bedrooms for you here." She placed Elphaba's plate on top of her own and it slipped off again, falling with a rather undue clatter, given its size, onto the coral satin place-settings.

"If that's true, I could equally point out to you that there's little point in my sleeping here when I have perfectly good sleeping facilities back at home," Elphaba disputed, retrieving her plate and scraping her leftovers onto Glinda's so that they would sit atop one another more comfortably, "Besides, I didn't even bring any sleepwear." Elphaba knew, however, that she hadn't really much interest in returning home, and this statement had been put forward for argument's sake more than anything. Was she really so argumentative? She really _did _need to watch her words, Elphaba thought.

One of Glinda's waiting staff entered to remove their dirty crockery, looking- Elphaba was amused to note- decidedly surprised to find their plates already stacked.

"Hermia, would you have it known to whomever it concerns that I require one of the guest bedrooms to be made up?" Glinda calmly requested of the young woman, "And have a clean nightdress laid out on the bed, there's a dear."

"Are you on first-name terms with all your staff?" Elphaba smirked, as Hermia gave a nod and disappeared from sight.

"Many of them," Glinda replied, taking her question seriously, "I _believe _her name's Hermia at any rate- it could just as easily be Josephine, I suppose. But it's much friendlier to use one's name when addressing her, don't you think?"

"The majority of women would not consider their maids worth befriending," Elphaba noted, with a slight frown as she considered this. She'd had Glinda pegged for the type who would not consider someone as lower-class as a maid worth a second glance, let alone taking the time to learn the woman's name. "Or indeed consider them individual enough to warrant use of their names. You're a strange woman, Glinda."

"And that's coming from you!" Glinda retorted, seeming to bristle slightly at this comment, though Elphaba had intended it as a mere observation, not an insult, "I can forget all their names and revert back to referring to them as _you there_, if it so pleases you. In fact, I'll have you know that it was _Fiyero_, not I, who began to address our servants that way, calling them Hermia and Poncia and Sessily and Alaida. I teased him for it at first, in quite the same way that you're teasing me, but I suppose the habit eventually began to wear off on me."

"I'm not teasing you," Elphaba assured her, "In fact, I think it's quite admirable of your husband and yourself to address your supposed inferiors with such respect."

Glinda looked away and didn't reply- it seemed that the mention of Fiyero had caused a misty barrier to arise between them, as though a putrid smell had entered the room and drifted between where they sat.

"I should leave," Elphaba said again, finally, "Send for a carriage for me, will you?"

But as she made to rise, Glinda put out a small hand and placed it on her own. Elphaba froze, hovering in the midst of sitting and standing.

"Please stay," Glinda whispered.

"I can't," Elphaba told her, gently but firmly.

Glinda fell asleep in the drawing room that night, nestled into a corner of a luxury futon. She was in the middle of a story regarding a chamber maid of hers named Poncia and her ex-lover, and a glass of unfinished ruby wine was still clasped in one hand, threatening to tip. Elphaba rescued this before it spilled and stained the red velvet, but she hadn't the heart to awaken her friend and nor had she the heart to leave whilst she was sleeping. Instead she retrieved a Vinkun throw from the corner of the room where it was folded almost all too perfectly and expectantly, and draped it across the other woman's tiny form. Then she drained her own glass and removed herself to the guest room which had been set up for her purpose. The following morning, she was not alone in her bed- Glinda was beside her, curled calmly and peacefully in much the same way that Elphaba had left her the previous night. Elphaba did not comment on the intrusion, and nor did she prevent Glinda from climbing unceremoniously into her bed the next night- she simply put out an arm and allowed the other woman to snuggle candidly into her side. Elphaba stayed put at the Tiggulars' for the remainder of the week. Her excuse was that she wanted to make continued use of the library; but during this time Glinda's bed was not slept in at all.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **I am SO sorry this has taken such a ridiculously long time to update. I literally had up to Chapter 15 saved on my laptop, waiting to go... And then, of course, the stupid thing got a virus and I lost everything. Moral of the story? Back up your work, boys and girls. Anyway, I've just about found the heart to start rewriting, so here we go once more :).

* * *

><p>While she had intended for her stay only to have been fleeting, it became clear to Elphaba after the first week of living within Glinda's house that neither one of them possessed any desire for her to leave any time soon. While she was conscious of overstaying her welcome; whenever she voiced this concern to Glinda, the blonde simply insisted that she was <em>delighted <em>to have Elphaba as a houseguest and that the other woman was _more than_ welcome to stay for as long as she pleased.

But despite this generosity, Elphaba was growing tired of remembering to have the one outfit she had brought with her washed on a daily basis. While Glinda had offered her own dresses to the green woman on numerous occasions, Elphaba had refused point-blank to deck herself out in anything covered so insufferably in frills and glitter. Besides, there were other matters to consider. There was absolutely no way in which Elphaba would be talked into wearing another woman's undergarments, for example; and her continuing reaction to water dictated that she needed her oils with her in order to be able to wash.

Therefore, the only resolution- if she was determined to remain at Glinda's house for the foreseeable future- was to return home and retrieve some of her own belongings.

She had planned for this trip to be made on Friday evening when she was sure that Avaric would be at some party or another, or, failing that, the local alehouse. But an unprecedented storm fell over the Emerald City on the very evening that she was due to leave, inevitably delaying the journey until the following morning.

The only passenger in Glinda's second-best carriage, Elphaba stared absently at the mundane landscape of the Emerald City as it rolled by. She had considered the city to be one of dreams when she had been younger- a place where freedom throve and acceptance was abundant. Only now did she realise that the City of Emerald glittered only by name. In Oz, there was no city of dreams.

The glistening sun caught the window, turning Elphaba's attention, against her will, to her own reflection. She studied it for a moment without judgement, opinion, or regard for aesthetic quality- the way in which a scientist might examine a piece of matter under a microscope- and then moved her attention to the book which rested in her lap. It had, so far, not been opened; a rarity for Elphaba. It was usual for her to dive into a book the second it was placed before her. But she had been considering other things since leaving Glinda's house.

Why should she pay the smallest amount of mind to what Glinda thought about her? That was the question Elphaba couldn't help pondering. The green woman had always prided herself on her ability to speak her mind without concern for how anyone might judge her- so why did this trait suddenly seem to fail her when it came to Glinda? Even if Elphaba dared to admit to herself that her feelings for Glinda might exceed those of simple, platonic friendship (it was nothing to be ashamed of, after all; who didn't possess those sorts of feelings with regards to Glinda, at least to some degree?) there was no use in taking the time to try and comprehend them for the simple reason that the other woman was happily married. Hell, even if Glinda hadn't been married to Fiyero, Elphaba would never delude herself into thinking that there was any chance the blonde might have any sort of interest in somebody like her.

To add considerably to her confusion, Elphaba could not deny that there were many things she could find to fault in Glinda. She was far too consumed by the opinions of those around her, and refused to stray too much from the customs and gender confinements dictated to her by society- and yet, there was something about her. A classic only child air of self-containment, perhaps, accompanied by an innate need for fairness to all those around her. This, along with her glacial beauty, seemed to set her apart from the other women Elphaba knew.

"Madam? This is your home is it not?" The chauffer enquired, and Elphaba started and looked up. Yes, she was indeed home. Though it was funny- Glinda's house already felt much more like home than this place.

She thanked the chauffer and stepped from the carriage. It was impossible tell without entering the house whether or not Avaric was home.

Not that she was _frightened _of her husband, Elphaba told herself confidently as she pushed open the front door. No; she didn't fear the physical violence of a man any more than she feared irrational, petty things like spiders or the dark. But this visit would be made considerably swifter and easier should she manage to escape a confrontation with her husband.

It seemed that luck was not on her side, however, as she had not even reached the bottom of the staircase before the door to the drawing room opened- no doubt in response to the sound of the front door closing behind her.

"Well, well," rang Avaric's sneering, slightly-slurred voice, "If it isn't the prodigal wife, returned from her mysterious travels."

"Drinking already, Avaric?" Elphaba shot back, her eyes flitting to the half-empty tankard in her husband's hand. "Is that really what life has come to for you?"

Avaric's eyes flashed in annoyance and he took a step towards her. "I see that even with your time away, you have not learned to address your husband with the required respect," he said, "It seems that one or two more of my taming sessions will not go amiss."

"That's a kind offer," Elphaba said derisively, turning her back on him and starting up the stairs, "But I really don't have the time right now. I only dropped by to pick up a few things, you see."

There was a crash as the tankard Avaric had been holding exploded against the wall beside her. His aim was a foot or two off, and Elphaba stepped smartly away from the smattering of glass and ale which fell just short of her.

"Now, now," she tutted, turning to her husband, "Throwing the family crystal around is far from becoming-"

She was cut off, however, through her need to instinctively duck, as Avaric seized a decorative plate from the wall and threw it towards where he imagined her head to be. It landed and broke a few steps lower than where she stood, and Elphaba let out a cackle.

"Perhaps you'd do better _not _to aim for me, husband dear," she told him sarcastically, "You might do a better job of hitting me, then." And with that, she turned and fled up the stairs to her bedroom.

As she was tossing a few belongings into a satchel, it occurred to Elphaba that winding Avaric up to the extent she had might not have been the best course of action. He was stronger than her, after all, and if he really, positively wanted to hurt her, she hadn't a hope of preventing it. But yet, he hadn't stormed upstairs after her. Had he tired himself out through all that throwing of various household objects, or was he waiting for her downstairs, biding his time?

The latter was found to be true when Elphaba arrived, several minutes later, back at the top of the staircase, and found Avaric at the bottom, blocking the front entry. She sighed and began down the stairs towards him.

"I do believe I stated that this would only be a flying visit," she said, feeling that words were her only defence right now- as poor of one as they may be, "So if you'd be so kind as to move-"

Her sentence was left unfinished as Avaric sped, quick as a cougar, to the bottom of the stairs to meet her. On reflex, Elphaba's hands shot up to her face to shield it, as Avaric's heavy fists began pummelling her from every angle.

"Stupid… Bitch…" he growled breathily, between punches, "I'll teach you to talk to me like that."

Elphaba was on her side now, curled into a makeshift cocoon, and her side throbbed from the recurring impact of Avaric's fists and boots. She closed her eyes and distanced herself from the situation as best she could, tuning his voice down to an indistinct drone and the pain down to a nondescript pulsing. Finally, when the persistent impact seemed to have desisted, she thought it safe to look up. Avaric was towering over her, his mouth twisted in rage and his eyes manic.

"Talk to me that way again," he snarled, "And you won't live to see another day."

He paused, glaring at her for several moments longer; then spat onto her face and left, the front door slamming behind him.

Elphaba rose her upper body shakily from the stairs, wiping the spittle from her cheek in disgust. She could feel her skin blistering from the impact of the water, but that was nothing. Chronic pain coursed through her body in its entirety, but most significantly in the ribs on her left side. Elphaba touched them gingerly, then slowly rose to her feet. The housemaids were mysteriously absent- though Elphaba couldn't blame them. She didn't think she would want to bear witness to a scene such as this one either.

* * *

><p>By the time the carriage had arrived back at the Tiggulars', the pain had dropped to a dull ache along her left side and Elphaba was sure it would be easy enough to hide, provided she didn't make any sudden movements.<p>

She found Glinda in a room which the blonde woman had previously alluded to as "the blue room" (though quite clearly, Elphaba had pointed out, the house contained far too many rooms if she had resorted to referring to them by colour rather than by purpose) but that which had drawn Elphaba's attention was not the fact that the room was blue, but the fact that it contained a grand piano.

"Would you like to play for me?" Glinda asked, noticing the lingering way in which Elphaba viewed this object as they entered the room. When she nodded- she was feeling vulnerable at present and needed the piano to calm her before Glinda noticed- Glinda reached into an ornamental vase and drew out a decorative, bronze key which she used to open the lid. Then she scooted onto the seat before the instrument and looked expectantly up at Elphaba, waiting for the green woman to join her.

Elphaba eyed the severely limited space beside Glinda. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in one of the armchairs?" she suggested, suddenly wary of close contact, even with Glinda, "I won't have room to play with you so close."

Glinda shook her head, however. "I want to see your fingers move," she insisted, "They're like magic when you play."

And so Elphaba gave in and shuffled onto the seat beside Glinda- stiffly and carefully, while trying not to jolt her ribs. There was barely an inch of space between them, and Elphaba's doubts about sitting so close to Glinda grew monumentally as she found herself torn between a desire to use the opportunity to brush her arm nonchalantly against Glinda's and a wish to edge hastily away before she was driven to do something she may regret.

Rather than attempting the arduous task of deciding on one course of action or the other, Elphaba instead attempted to focus her mind on choosing which piece she should play. This was no easy feat by any means: save for the night she had met Glinda, it had been a long time since Elphaba had found herself with freedom over a piano. The piece she decided on finally was one of the later ones she had learned- not long before she had been banished from the instrument- but one that she remembered to be pitiful and bittersweet, brimming with lingering notes which provided the feel of unrequited love.

Glinda didn't utter a word as she listened to Elphaba play: she simply gazed with that unfaltering, blue-eyed stare at the other woman's long fingers as they roamed the keys. Flattered by the rapt attention and hyperaware of the other woman's presence at her side, Elphaba began to lose concentration; and finally she had to accept defeat, letting her hands fall from the keys with a sigh.

"It's been a long time," she admitted, "And I believe memory lapses are said to be quite common to women of my age."

"Don't be absurd," Glinda rebuked, giving her a playful shove which caused Elphaba to suppress a wince at the sharp pain it caused, "You talk as though you're nearing ninety, not thirty! Besides, I'm sure we're more or less the same age, and I'd like to think that my memory is still quite intact, thank you very much."

Elphaba smiled, as she knew was the protocol following such jesting remarks, then turned herself back to face the piano. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?" she asked.

Glinda shook her head. "Although there is one request I'd like to make," she admitted, rather more shyly than was usual for her.

"And what's that?" Elphaba asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Will you teach me?"

Elphaba shook her head, amused. "I heard a rumour that you were a terrible student," she teased.

Giggling, Glinda elbowed her in the ribs, and this time Elphaba was unable to repress a grimace: Glinda's sharp elbow had driven right into the most tender spot. Thankfully, however, Glinda seemed to miss this: "Please?" she begged, "Just teach me one little song, and then I'll leave you be?"

And so Elphaba consented. She chose the easiest of the pieces she knew, not wanting to overwhelm Glinda with anything too complex, but still the other woman had difficulty. After twenty minutes or so of looking on as the other woman muddled her fingers and confused her chords, Elphaba had had enough. Frustrated, she climbed from the stool and moved behind Glinda; then, sliding an arm around each side of the blonde's petite body, Elphaba positioned her hands over Glinda's and attempted to direct them to where they needed to be.

She was so intent on this task that it took Elphaba several seconds to notice that Glinda's hands had frozen beneath her own. Confused, she looked down at the other woman- and drew back in surprise as she realised that Glinda had turned to look at her, and that her face was mere inches away from Elphaba's own. Simultaneous to this, Glinda jumped hastily to her feet- and their joint movement sent the piano stool between them flying sideways. Elphaba bent on reflex to catch it, before straightening up and hissing in pain as this unthinking action sent a streak of searing tenderness along her bruised ribs.

"Elphie?" Glinda was instantly at her side, her hands very gently coming to rest either side of the sore spot, "What is it?"

Elphaba simply shook her head: the pain she had felt had been manifestly replaced by the unnerving knowledge that Glinda's hands, in their current position, were sending tingles up and down her entire body.

"Another injury?" Glinda questioned, her eyes full of innocent concern, "Oh Elphie, you didn't trip on the stairs again? Or was it another accident involving water?"

Elphaba stared at her. Glinda's expression was the epitome of trustful naïveté, and suddenly the green woman found herself overcome with an unfathomable rage.

"Oh, for Oz's sake, Glinda," she exclaimed angrily, taking a step backwards and wrenching herself free from the other woman's hands, "Do you really believe me to be clumsy enough that I should be inflicting accidental injury on myself on this regular a basis? Please assure me that you're not truly so ignorant?"

"W-What?" Glinda stammered, and seeing the hurt in her eyes that her words had caused, Elphaba immediately regretted having spoken. "Elphie, why should I have any reason to mistrust anything you tell me?"

"It's nothing," Elphaba mumbled, immediately regretting her outburst. She cast her eyes across the ground to locate her satchel and then reached for it, "Forget I said anything."

Still, as Elphaba hoisted the bag onto her shoulder- wincing again as she straightened too quickly- it seemed that Glinda was attempting to understand just what she had meant.

"If your injuries are not the result of accidents, that insinuates somebody is hurting you purposefully," she deduced slowly, before turning to look at Elphaba with wide eyes, "But who would do such a thing?"

"I'll give you one guess," Elphaba spat on her way to the door.

"Not Avaric surely?" Glinda asked in astonishment, and Elphaba resisted the urge to make some sarcastic appraisal towards her for having finally put two and two together. "But- but he loves you."

Having lost her patience completely now, Elphaba turned on her heel and rounded on Glinda. "Love?" she snarled, "Glinda, you need to stop with this ridiculous assumption that everyone else's relationships are equivalent to your own. I've already told you how my marriage to Avaric came about. There was never any love involved. Love is something which comes out of nowhere and, contrary to your will, engulfs you completely. It is not a sensation which can be controlled or which is born automatically following marriage! It's the moment when one person becomes your reason for living and breathing; when you discover that they mean more than the whole of Oz to you. And most importantly, it's the desire to protect that person at all costs and ensure that no harm comes to them; for if they become hurt, you know that it will destroy you."

Upon finishing her rant, Elphaba found that she was short of breath and quickly becoming irrational. Now where had all _that_ come from? Elphaba hadn't realised she believed any of those things- in fact, she had been a firm disbeliever in love for as long as she could remember. But then, if love didn't exist, where had all those emotions spilled out from? And why was she filled with the undeniable sense that everything she had just said- every one of those sensations she had described- were things that she was currently feeling?

She wasn't simply falling for Glinda, Elphaba thought as the sickening realisation dawned on her; she was in _love_ with her.

Quickly, she cast a glance at the woman in question. Glinda was staring at her as though she had just sprouted wings or grown an extra head- and Elphaba didn't blame her in the slightest. She must have sounded like a deranged madwoman, hysterically shouting all those things about love.

Suddenly extremely uncomfortable with the situation and at a complete loss for what else to do, Elphaba simply mumbled something about needing to leave, and then turned her back on Glinda and fled towards the door. She heard Glinda calling to her as she walked swiftly along the hallway, but did not turn around. She had no idea where she would go- where was home now?- but all she wanted now was to get out of the house and away from the terrifying situation she had just created for herself.

* * *

><p>Glinda watched Elphaba go, still reeling from her friend's outburst. It was not the first time Elphaba had shouted at her by any means, but… Well, Glinda wasn't quite sure <em>what <em>the "but" was in this situation Quite clearly something had changed between them now, perhaps irrevocably, and only time could tell whether that something would be for the better or for the worse of them.

As she stood alone in the blue room, Glinda's mind strayed back to what Elphaba had told her (well, yelled at her) about love. About it sneaking up on a person when one least expected it and having the ability to take over that person entirely. Glinda wanted very much to believe that Elphaba's perception of love was a very childish one; that her own relationship with Fiyero was mature and sensible and stable. And yet, she couldn't entirely persuade herself that this was the case. It was all Elphaba's fault, Glinda thought in annoyance: that woman had managed to alter her perspective on just about everything.

And now... Everything Elphaba had said about love leading to a strong protectiveness, about it causing one to possess an all-consuming desire to keep another safe- well, that was precisely what she had felt when Elphaba had admitted to the fact that it was Avaric who was causing her harm.

Surely it must be innate for men, Glinda considered, to feel protective towards attractive women, and consequently to feel fond of those women who need their protection? She had observed this phenomenon many times over in Fiyero and other males- and thus found it rather curious that, as a woman, she should now be experiencing these same feelings.

Then, replaying her thoughts over, Glinda realised that she had subconsciously referred to Elphaba as an attractive woman. This startled her a great deal- not because Elphaba was not beautiful, as she most certainly was- but because she subverted every single notion of attractiveness which had been imbedded into Glinda's mind since birth. Now wasn't _that_ curious?

But the more Glinda thought on it, the more she convinced herself that it was distinctly wrong for her to be thinking this way about Elphaba; and she made her mind up to suppress these feelings as much as she was able. Yes, that was what she would do- she would visit Elphaba the following morning and ensure that she was okay, all the while behaving the way in which she always had around her. Neither of them need mention tonight's incident again.

A mild infatuation was all this was, Glinda told herself severely, while attempting to suppress thoughts of how her insides had fluttered when Elphaba had laid those elegant green hands on top of hers; only an infatuation.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It had been late when Elphaba had finally arrived home and Avaric was either asleep- or rather passed out, no doubt- or else he was spending the night elsewhere. Elphaba had been disinclined to check for her husband's presence and had simply retreated immediately to the separate bedchamber she had taken to sleeping in after that first, atrocious night.

Elphaba knew that her behaviour had been irrational, and she was sure that she had unintentionally crossed a line in her friendship with Glinda. Raising her voice towards the blonde woman when she uttered some comment that Elphaba disagreed with was one thing; but hysterically screaming whimsical fantasies of love at her was quite another. She had displayed to Glinda a side of herself that she had never intended for anyone to see, and was quite sure that she had done the right thing in leaving. Moreover, Elphaba was certain that Glinda would agree with this prognosis- surely she had plenty of friends who were kind and civil: she didn't need a friend like Elphaba for whom it was such a struggle to control her temper.

As such, the last thing Elphaba had expected to hear the following morning was a carriage pulling up outside the house, and the last thing she had expected to see, when she drew back her drapes curiously, was Glinda stepping out of it.

Frowning, Elphaba glanced over her shoulder, regarding the rest of the still-quiet house. Avaric had not yet emerged from his chamber that morning, but- considering the foul mood he was likely to be in upon discovering her return- Elphaba was very sure that she had no intention of awakening him, if she could help it.

"Elphaba!" Glinda exclaimed, when Elphaba had slipped downstairs moments later and pulled open the front entry. The blonde woman's hand had been poised as though to knock, but instead of lowering it, she scooped Elphaba into a tight embrace. "You're okay! Oh, sweet Oz, you gave me the most _dreadful _fright!"

Elphaba stared wordlessly down at the woman, her body stiff and tense in the arms she had been thrust into. "Glinda-" she began, frowning, but had not gotten any further with enquiring as to just what was going on before the blonde had squeezed past her and had- grabbing her hand- begun pulling her purposefully towards the sitting room.

Thoroughly confused now, Elphaba closed the door behind and allowed herself to be escorted through.

"Now, let me look at you," Glinda said then, holding her at arms' length and surveying her closely, "Are you hurt? Sick? _Why _did you take off like that without even requesting use of one of my carriages? You didn't walk all the way back here? Don't you ever do that to me again, do you hear?"

"Glinda," Elphaba began, finally managing to get a word in edgeways, before realising she hadn't any idea how to respond to all that concerned spew. It hadn't occurred to Elphaba that Glinda might have been worried for her: never in her life had somebody cared about her enough to worry for her safety, so it wasn't something she was used to considering. "I'm _fine_, Glinda" she assured the other woman finally.

"It doesn't matter," Glinda countered immediately, causing Elphaba to raise an eyebrow. "Well, it _matters_, of course it does, but something _could_ have happened and that's what's important! Didn't you hear me calling out to you as you left?"

Elphaba shrugged guiltily, still trying to digest the fact that Glinda was here at her door after all that had been said the night before.

"Well, I _did_, I can assure you!" Glinda continued, apparently trying to discharge all of her anger in one go, "I even stepped out into the cold courtyard in search of you, positively _ruining_ a pair of my silk slippers in the process, I might add, and- oh, I'm just so glad you're okay!"

And then she hugging her again, sniffling into her chest in an apparent attempt to keep her emotion in check. Elphaba patted her back weakly, still reeling from the fact that her abrupt disappearance had affected Glinda so much.

She allowed Glinda to embrace her for a further few seconds, before deciding that it was high time they drew attention to matters that had so far been neglected.

"Glinda," Elphaba began doggedly, easing the other woman's body gently but firmly away from hers, "We should talk about last night. When I said all those things-"

But she had got no further than this before Glinda was hushing her. "There's no need to talk about that _now_," she said, giving a very high, tinkly laugh which caused Elphaba to raise her eyebrows. In her opinion, there was _every _need to talk about the previous night, much as she was dreading doing so. And she was sure that Glinda knew this too- so why was she feigning such nonchalance about the whole affair?

"Sit down! I've something to show you first," Glinda, who was now ferreting in her bag, was saying, her voice still highly false and chirpy. Elphaba hesitated, undecided whether or not to press the matter, but then Glinda looked up at her. "Sit _down_," she said again, and the sense of pleading in her eyes was too great for Elphaba to ignore. She sank onto a seat, but the very second her bony behind had touched the cushioned material, Glinda had risen to her feet and was brandishing a sleek wooden box in her face.

"What's this?" she asked, trying to draw her head back from the object enough that she could actually _see_ what it was.

"Open it up and see!" Glinda beamed, bobbing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

Elphaba sighed, hoping it wasn't anything like Glinda's previous surprise, which had unfathomably managed to reduce her to tears for the first time in twenty-or-so years, and then opened the box and peered into it. Inside, amongst thick, velvet padding, nestled a slim, wooden stick.

"Well?" Glinda demanded, impatient through her enthusiasm, "What do you think?"

Elphaba shook her head blankly. "What _is _it?"

"It's a magick wand!" Positively brimming with excitement now, Glinda took the box back and drew out the wand as carefully as one might lift a hand grenade. "I'm going to teach you sorcery!"

_Oh, sweet Oz, _Elphaba thought, as the image of the two of them unintentionally setting the house aflame entered her mind unbidden. "That's a very kind thought, but highly unnecessary," she told Glinda as tactfully as she could manage.

"Oh, but I insist," Glinda replied, smiling sweetly. Elphaba sighed, then- against her better judgement- relented, unable to ignore the sneaking suspicion that she would willingly walk to the edge of Oz for that smile.

Glinda's sorcery lesson, initially, seemed to comprise of the blonde witch saying funny words while waving the wand around wildly- and then growing frustrated as nothing happened. After this sequence had transpired for the fifth time, Elphaba could feel her previous amusement rapidly turning to a mild impatience, and after the _sixth _time, she had come to the definite conclusion that Glinda had been speaking the truth when she had stated that she was _"not the most accomplished sorceress."_

"May I try?" she asked finally. While still not wholly enthusiastic about this magick tutorial, Elphaba could not deny that it was frustrating to watch somebody fail at something over and over and not have the opportunity to set her own hand to the task.

"Oh, I suppose," Glinda told her, grudgingly handing the wand over, "I'm sure I don't understand what's wrong: that spell worked perfectly fine for me before I arrived. Perhaps it's broken- can wands break? Or maybe this house simply doesn't have the right atmosphere-"

She continued to talk, blaming her failure on every external source from the plausible to the ridiculous; from the current weather conditions to the colour of the walls, but Elphaba was no longer concentrating. The second she had taken the wand from Glinda, an extraordinary sensation had come over her- a tingling which had started at her fingertips and then risen swiftly to enthral the rest of her body. Even her mind seemed consumed, in part, by the wonder of the wand; a feeling which Elphaba disliked intensely- it was a frightening thought that she might not have full control over her own mind.

As she instinctively- as though she, through some unfathomable means, knew precisely what she was doing- raised the wooden stick far above her head, Elphaba felt her body begin to tremble and found that her lips were forming words in a language she had never before encountered. Glinda was no longer talking: she simply watched in rapture, eyes wildly anticipant as she waited to see what Elphaba would do.

There was a flash of blinding, green light and Elphaba froze with one arm held above her head. She gave the hand gripping the wand an involuntary jerk, and the light appeared again. This time, however, it remained present, and began to snake around the room, confident and ominous, like toxic gas diffusing into the air they breathed.

Paralysed with surprise that she had actually achieved something, Elphaba could only watch as the spell meandered lazily above their heads as though casually deciding its direction. And then, choosing its purpose, it moved decisively towards the stag's head which was nailed to a board and positioned on the East wall. It was an ugly thing of Avaric's and Elphaba had always detested it, feeling for the poor creature which had lost its life for the sake of a wall ornament. But as the spell encapsulated it, the long-dead animal was given new life. It turned to peer at Elphaba through doleful, hazel eyes; and then rose entirely from the wall, growing, as it did so, a whole new body of silvery green vapour. It dropped majestically to the floor, staggered a little as though unused to its magickal body, and then kicked up its back legs and began to sprint, heading deliberately for the unopened windows which opened onto the back patio.

Elphaba heard Glinda gasp, heard her utter several exclamations to the Unnamed God,Lurline _and _The Wizard; but her attention was fixated on the incongruous being of her own creation as it bounded across the room, increasing in speed as it went. It hit the windows with such impact that they shattered completely, causing glass to shower down onto the carpet. But- apparently unscathed- the magickal stag simply continued on through the gardens as though the barrier between the sitting room and freedom had never existed.

It was not until it had disappeared from sight that Elphaba realised that the windows- which she had just witnessed being broken into pieces- were once again whole. She blinked several times, trying to comprehend the logic of the matter; but there was no rational explanation to be found.

There was silence in the room as both women stood stunned, slowly recovering from the effects of the unexpected magick. Elphaba strained to hear whether the commotion her spell had caused had produced any disturbance from upstairs; but, miraculously, the house remained silence. Finally, Glinda moved her eyes from the empty wooden board which had once been host to a stag's head, and turned to look at the perpetrator of the spell, her eyes large with astonishment and envy.

"Well," she said, pouting, "That's no fun. You didn't tell me you already _knew _magick."

"I don't." Elphaba's breathing was still heavy, her heart gradually slowing from the swift beats it had taken up; still reeling from what she had done. "I've never cast that spell before in my life. I've never cast _any _spell previous to that."

Glinda was looking at her with scrutiny, as though to deduct whether or not she was being truthful. Finally, seeming to decide that she believed the other woman, she drew in a breath of air and shook her head in wonder.

* * *

><p>She wouldn't have believed it of anyone else. If anybody else Glinda knew had cast a spell of that power and had then claimed to know nothing of sorcery, she would have rejected the claim without a thought. There was absolutely no way in which a person could cause that to happen upon attempting sorcery for the first time- and with this thought, Glinda vividly recalled her own first time, in which no spell she cast had had any visible effect whatsoever. It had only been through perseverance and sheer stubbornness that she had finally managed to become adept at casting simple spells. But this had only been the first rung of the ladder, and now she was perhaps on the second or third- and what loomed ahead of her promised to be a long, arduous climb. And yet now, she felt that from her lowly position she was staring up at Elphaba who was already miles and miles above her.<p>

It simply wasn't fair; and Glinda couldn't help feeling a little silly now for having offered to teach Elphaba sorcery in the first place, when really it looked as though the green woman should be teaching _her_. But Glinda could not find it in herself to resent Elphaba for what she had achieved.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" she gushed at last, "Do something else, Elphie! I want to watch more carefully and take notice of exactly what happens."

Glinda watched Elphaba shift her gaze to the wand still gripped in her hand, saw the way her face contracted into a frown. Then, finally, the green woman shook her head and placed the wand firmly in front of Glinda.

"No," she said.

"_No_?" Glinda stared at her as though she had gone insane, which, she felt at that moment, may just have happened. "What in Oz do you mean, _no_?"

"Exactly what I said," Elphaba told her firmly, "I'm not going to do any more magick."

"But why ever not?" Glinda spluttered, "Elphie, you're a talented sorceress! Surely you aren't going to attempt to ignore something like that!"

But it seemed as though Elphaba was set on doing so: no matter how hard Glinda tried to convince her, she would not sway from her decision. And neither could Glinda work out _why _Elphaba was refusing to use her magick powers. All that she would say, when quizzed, was that she did not want magickal solutions to her problems, because that was not the way the world worked. Even when Glinda hinted that Elphaba could help the Animals she so loved with use of sorcery, Elphaba only maintained that she would continue to work hard at what she fully understand, rather than becoming dependant on something which was illogical, required no effort and had simply arisen out of the blue. All of which sounded positively ridiculous to Glinda. Working to succeed was all fine and good, but she just couldn't understand how one could simply dismiss a talent which came so naturally to her.

Finally, after much passionate debate, it seemed clear that neither woman could accept nor understand the other's point of view with regards to this particular issue; and Glinda had to confess defeat for the time being, though she did not intend to give up completely. Never before had Glinda met somebody who was quite so stubborn as herself, but it seemed that Elphaba far surpassed her in this department- in quite the same way she did when it came to magickal ability.

It was not until she left the house somewhat later that Glinda remembered just what her purpose had been in going over there- she had intended to distract them both from the occurrences of the previous night. And she had succeeded in this aim with surprising ease. Almost from the instant she had walked in, Glinda had quite forgotten any discomfort between the two of them. She was sure that this was because being in Elphaba's company felt so natural and straightforward that no room was left for awkwardness. Which was rather surprising, Glinda contemplated, as Elphaba was certainly not the easiest person to get along with. Rather, it seemed that the two of them shared an inexplicable connection- something which exceeded the usual friendship between two women- which caused Glinda to feel continuously relaxed in the other woman's presence.

_What is this feeling?_- Glinda wondered in bewilderment, as an incongruously warm shiver coursed through her body, seeming to warm her to the very tips of her fingers and toes. _Who are you, Elphaba? Why are you so unlike everybody else I've ever met in my life? And why do you possess such extraordinary power, both magickally and over _me_?_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I did have a request for a particularly long chapter, but I ended up separating it into two, simply so that I could leave it in an appropriate place. So both chapters are now usual length- my apologies. I shouldn't take too long in putting the next one up, however- I'm quite anxious to move into the main body of this story now. If you enjoy this chapter (or if you can think of any potential alterations, of course) please be so kind as to leave a review? You have no idea how appreciated your feedback is!

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><p><span>Chapter 11<span>

As Autumn came to pass in the swift, insistent way it had a habit of doing; it seemed that the incident in the piano room had slipped from Glinda's mind. Either that or she had simply dismissed the encounter entirely, not considering it worth dwelling upon, Elphaba mused broodingly. Quite contrarily, she herself seemed unable to remove thoughts of that day from her mind for more than a few hours.

Glinda had not raised the topic of Avaric's abuse since the day in which she had discovered that it was commencing; neither to ask for further details nor to suggest that something be done about it. For this, Elphaba was extremely thankful- she was quite sure that there was nothing which could be done to resolve the predicament, and she would not have cared for the other woman to have offered pity which was neither practical nor helpful. In fact, Avaric had not touched her in a sexual manner since their wedding night, and his physical attacks seemed not to affect Elphaba much any longer. All she needed to do was close her eyes and think of Glinda until the pain was not so terrible, and she was fine. Elphaba wondered privately what Glinda would think if she knew that she was helping protect her friend from her husband's abuse in such an unconscious way.

Slowly but surely, Elphaba had become increasingly aware of the fact that her feelings towards Glinda had grown stealthily stronger as their time together had progressed. Or perhaps they had not changed at all; perhaps they had been this way all along, and it had simply been a matter of discovering, through time, what they meant? Her love for the blonde woman both comforted and terrified her: comforted, because it was reassuring to discover that she still remained enough of a person to possess such a human feeling as love; terrified, because she hadn't the slightest idea of what to do about the way she felt. It was unlike Elphaba not to have a plan, and yet how could she plan for something she had never before experienced; something which she had been adamant she never _would _experience? And even now, she felt herself mentally scoffing at the very idea of the fact that she could be in _love _with somebody. When had she started to believe in those storybook concepts?

Nevertheless, Elphaba couldn't suppress the knowledge that if she didn't do something about her feelings soon, she would be in danger of letting them out in completely the wrong way. Avoidance of Glinda had proven impossible as the blonde simply came seeking her out; but what other way was there of dealing with this fire threatening to engulf her very being?

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><p>Nessarose's wedding fell in late November, when the air was beginning to grow colder as the last remaining heat of the year slipped away. Nevertheless, if Nessa had hoped for a Spring wedding, the weather was compliant, as the day in which she was due to wed opened with a pleasant, but not overpowering warmness.<p>

Glinda had, of course, received an invitation to the wedding. Despite the fact she had only ever spoken to Nessarose in passing, she would have been terribly offended had Fiyero and herself _not_ been invited to an event which was promised, in gossip, to be the most spectacular wedding of the season.

And the day _was _spectacular. Glinda had thought long and hard about her outfit, knowing that everybody present would be dressed in beautiful attire; and finally she had decided on a number of lavender satin which flowed to her knees and displayed just the smallest hint of cleavage. The fit was perfect enough to draw to her figure the eyes of those nearby, but the elaborateness of the cut was modest enough that she would not remove attention from the bride- well, for long, anyhow, Glinda added to herself rather smugly.

Once the ceremony had begun, however, it quickly became clear to Glinda that there had been no danger at all of upstaging the bride. The simple wooden chair which Nessa had possessed previously had been replaced by one of elegant gold, its detail so intricate that it looked to have been woven rather than soldered. While the old chair had caused Glinda to throw the younger woman glances of pity, this one caused her to view Nessa with _envy_, almost; and she had to remind herself that there was no way in Oz she wanted to sacrifice the use of her legs, even for a pretty chair. If ever there was a way for one to make being crippled look attractive, however; Nessa was certainly able to achieve it. She sat straight in her chair, looking positively regal- or perhaps even celestial- as her dress of stunning lace billowed around her, the gold complementing the white perfectly.

Seats of a rather lesser gold had been constructed in an arc across the Center Munch, and the wedding was invitation only. Stern, uniform-clad guards patrolled the perimeter of the square, welcoming those with invitations and curtly turning away those without them. Glinda had managed to secure for her husband and herself two seats beside the aisle, less than ten rows from the front- something of an achievement when one considered the ridiculous amount of people present.

She craned her neck and cast her eyes across the very front row, looking for Elphaba. This was not a difficult task, as the green woman stood out a mile- while everybody else appeared to have put a great amount of consideration into their outfits, Elphaba was wearing something so shapeless that it resembled a navy blue sack. Despite herself, Glinda raised her eyebrows a little at this- she had been expecting her friend to show up in something similar to the dress Elphaba had worn when they had first met at Pfannee's party. This was her sister's wedding, for Lurline's sake; Glinda thought, suddenly feeling rather exasperated by her friend. But at that very moment, Elphaba chose to glance over her shoulder, and quickly found Glinda's eyes. She smiled- and Glinda felt her irritation melt away entirely. That very smile was something she had seen more and more of as the two of them had spent increasing amounts of time together, and Glinda found herself hopelessly consumed by the notion that it was all she wanted to see for the rest of eternity.

It was not until the ceremony had ended and the reception at Colwen Grounds underway that Glinda found herself alone with Elphaba, and was able to share her concerns about her friend's attire. Elphaba's eyes betrayed a flash of something profound as Glinda questioned her as to the meaning behind her sack-dress, but then it had vanished, leaving Glinda thoroughly confused as to what it had meant. Was it anger, perhaps? Sadness? Or had it simply been a flash of mischief as the green woman considered her own rebellion from the conventions of society?

"It always confuses me as to why these women need to spend exuberant amounts of money on dresses bigger than tents and hairstyles which make them look as though a small animal has taken refuge on their heads," Elphaba explained disdainfully, "Why, if one of them offered me some ink and a pen, I would write the word _materialist _across her forehead free of charge."

Glinda looked at her sharply. "I hope you realise that I'm one of those women you speak about," she rebuked.

"No," Elphaba said firmly, shaking her head, "You have things those women will never have. You have integrity, an insightful mind and a pure heart. As many frilly gowns as you wear, you will never be one of those women."

Glinda turned to her, her eyes wide and blissful, both surprised and pleased at the rare compliment. She was about to say 'thank you,' when she noticed the way in which Elphaba was looking at her. Her chocolate-brown eyes looked unfocused, somehow- as though she was seeing something deeper than the mere surface of Glinda's face; and her dark-green, almost black lips were parted very slightly, leaving her pointy features a little skewed.

"What?" Glinda asked, her forehead furrowing in concern, "What is it?"

* * *

><p>"Elphie?" Glinda questioned when Elphaba continued to hesitate, her voice so soft that the green woman wondered for a moment if she already knew. She opened her mouth to continue, but before she could utter another word, Glinda had grasped her wrist and pointed excitedly behind her.<p>

"Oh look!" she beamed, "There's Nessa, and she's alone finally! Let's congratulate her!"

And then the moment had passed her by, and just like that, not only had Elphaba's opportunity surpassed her, but she suddenly realised that Glinda did _not _know what she had been about to tell her. She closed her eyes and took a deep inhalation of breath as Glinda waved Nessarose over to them.

"Oh Nessa, I simply couldn't be happier for you!" Glinda trilled, bending to kiss Nessa on the cheek, "You and Boq, you deserve one another! Don't you think so, Elphie?"

"What?" Elphaba asked, the unexpected address taking her by surprise- she had been focused on the way Glinda's golden locks shone in the sunlight as she had bent forwards, "I mean, yes," she added stupidly, managing to establish the answer Glinda's question required of her, "I'm very happy for you, Nessa. You'll make a fine wife."

"And you look positively radiant!" Glinda gushed, "That dress is simply perfect for your figure."

There was a short, awkward silence as Elphaba and Nessa looked deliberately away from one another, neither one of them daring to acknowledge that it was, in fact, the same dress Elphaba herself had worn when she had married Avaric- only for Nessa's benefit it had been cut and altered accordingly. Thankfully, it was at that moment that Glinda realised that her husband was talking to Boq and that she absolutely _must _run and congratulate him too while she had the chance! And so she disappeared in a flutter, leaving the two sisters alone with one another.

"What an excitable woman," Nessa commented, looking slightly stunned as she watched Glinda skip away from them.

Elphaba smiled a little, throwing her friend an affectionate glance. "Yes, Glinda's quite a character."

"I understand you've been seeing a lot of Glinda lately," Nessa commented, looking questioningly at her, and Elphaba nodded.

"Yes, I suppose I have," she answered noncommittally.

"She has a good soul," Nessa observed somberly, watching as Glinda conversed vibrantly with her new husband. "Spending time with her may be beneficial to you."

"Yes, for someone as soulless as myself; it can only be of benefit for me to be around someone with a soul so beautiful," Elphaba agreed, though her mind was already absent. She was distracted; she had been that way all day.

As she watched Glinda chat blithely to the other wedding guests, Elphaba tried her hardest to comprehend just what it was about her which made her so appealing; for surely it should not be so difficult to work out. A simple biological or psychological equation was all any feeling ever really abridged to, after all. Glinda was glamorous and sociable; she was the ideal woman and reminded Elphaba of all the things she couldn't be. This, coupled with the way in which she felt so comfortable and secure in the blonde's presence simply provided the _illusion_ that she was in love with Glinda.

And yet, there was something else. None of these rational thoughts could begin to explain the blazing fire in Elphaba's chest; the cloud of fogginess consuming her brain, or the sensation of deep longing and sensuality she experienced whenever she encountered the intoxicating scent of Glinda's perfume. Though she was not usually one for metaphors, preferring to express herself in literal terms, she found, frighteningly, that this feeling was one which could not be articulated through use of facts and figures. Conversely, the creative, imaginative side of her mind was what was needed: the side she kept stowed away so compactly. But was that not the part of her which came forth when she played the piano? Had her piano sessions with Glinda perhaps unleashed these illogical, intangible feelings within her?

Elphaba didn't know, but she _did _know that she had no wish to remain feeling this way indefinitely. She wanted to share this revelation with Glinda, to see whether they could come to terms with it together and work out what to do with it- and at all costs, she wanted to avoid a repeat of her outburst that day in the piano room.

Moving forwards to where Glinda was now talking companionably with a couple Elphaba didn't recognise, she reached out and gently touched the blonde woman on her shoulder.

Glinda swiveled to look at her, her face bearing a genuine, careless smile which reached right to her eyes, transforming them into magnificent, blissful sapphires; and Elphaba felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"Glinda, may I speak to you for a few moments?" she asked, disgusted to hear how insecure she suddenly sounded. Elphaba had been so confident that sharing her personal thoughts with Glinda was the right thing to do under the circumstances; so why did that course of action suddenly seem so insane? She glanced at the couple with whom Glinda had been speaking, who were looking on curiously. "In private," she clarified.

"Of course!" Glinda beamed, then politely extracted herself from the company of her new acquaintances, steering Elphaba and herself to one side. "Now, what is it?"

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><p>"There's something I'd like to talk about," Elphaba said, and there was an unsteadiness to her tone which caused a ripple of concern to spread through Glinda. Usually Elphaba was so vocal about everything she felt: she wasn't one to sugar-coat her opinions or spare her thoughts for worry over the feelings of others. Each thought which entered her mind was spoken confidently and assuredly, and Glinda was troubled by the hint of anxiety which was now so prominent in the sure-minded woman's tone.<p>

"Elphie, what is it?" she asked gently, reaching out a hand to take the other woman's, and when she further hesitated, added: "You know you can tell me anything."

"I know." Elphaba's voice had grown even smaller; so much so that Glinda feared it might soon disappear altogether. "I know I can tell you close to anything, but this..." she cast her eyes warily around the crowded ballroom and swallowed thickly, "Could we perhaps find someplace less crowded?"

"Of course," Glinda assured her; and the words had barely left her mouth before Elphaba had nodded once and then turned her back on her, heading for the doors.

Glinda followed close behind her, her feelings a confusion of anxiety, intrigue and bewilderment. Together, they slipped unnoticed out of the ballroom and along a stealthy, unlit passageway which lead to the gardens.

It was twilight, and the heat from the day had assuredly faded, leaving behind it a chilliness which caused Glinda to feel strangely vulnerable. Or was it the mere oddity of the situation which was causing her to feel this way; the ominous feeling that something untoward was about to occur?

The gardens of Colwen Grounds were extremely well-kept and coordinated: each variety of plant kept well within its designated section and meticulously well-ordered. Glinda cast her eyes carelessly over the shrubbery which formed neat borders to either side of them, but couldn't keep them from straying back to Elphaba's silhouette as she swept, slick as a cat, further from the lights of the house and deeper into the infinite darkness.

As they moved further from the house, the order and precision of the garden began to disintegrate, as though the gardener had not paid consideration to the fact that guests might venture this far from the house. Waist-high, manicured hedges transformed gradually into taller, ragged shrubs which appeared, to Glinda, to hold swaths of deep shadow and mystery.

Elphaba walked swiftly, and Glinda followed close behind her; drawn to the other woman as powerlessly as a child following behind a trusted adult.

In the muted twilight, Glinda was unable to prevent herself from casting an appreciative eye over Elphaba's slender form. The sleeves on the sack-dress were long and the unflattering neckline modest enough to display no more than a ghost of cleavage, but as the green woman turned, Glinda found herself drawn to the shadow cast through the trees, which fell between veiled green breasts. Unable to draw her gaze upwards towards somewhere more appropriate as Elphaba reached to take her hands, Glinda caught a slight bounce in her chest area, which gave her cause to believe that the other woman was not wearing any additional support underneath that misshapen dress. Her heart began beating wickedly fast as she drew upon this revelation, the beauty of this improper discovery causing her breath to catch in her throat.

Their palms touched, and a tingling sensation began at the centre of Glinda's hands, sending a frisson of electricity from the route of the touch throughout her body, right to her toes. She wriggled them experimentally, and then wrapped her hands more tightly around Elphaba's, drawing the other woman in closer. As she did so, Glinda felt a slight tremor pass through her, but whether a tremble or mere shiver owing to the coolness of the night, she couldn't tell.

"Glinda," Elphaba whispered, taking one hand away from Glinda's and letting it creep upwards towards her cheek. Green fingers traced a cheekbone experimentally, and Glinda felt she may have been holding her breath. Her skin tingled and, as Elphaba let the hand fall to Glinda's waist, she felt a sudden, protesting heat materialise between her thighs.

The moment felt fragile as glass as Glinda struggled to remember why they were here, outside, beneath this scattering of stars. She felt bare and unrefined: as untouched as a virgin, perhaps, or as though she possessed no skin: naked and shy under the open night sky. One touch more, Glinda thought- one kiss- would be all it would take for her to keel over and melt into the grass.

But Elphaba was hesitant. Her chin was bent, her face close to Glinda's and her lips slightly parted, but her breathing was shallow and rough- fearful. As Glinda looked into the other woman's eyes she sensed her apprehension. But what was there to be afraid of? This moment was perfect; _Elphaba _was perfect.

Taking initiative herself, Glinda pressed the balls of her feet into the grass and, lifting herself onto her tiptoes, she closed the remaining inches between their mouths.


	12. Chapter 12

******A/N: **Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I'm terribly sorry for not replying to any of them- I've been trying, I promise! I just keep getting the message "The review you are replying to cannot be found" for some strange reason :/. Oh, and I'm also sorry for leaving you with such a cliffhanger... tehe :)

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><p><span>Chapter 12<span>

Glinda heard Elphaba's soft moan of content as their lips touched, felt warm arms wrap around her body, drawing it fiercely to hers. Glinda deepened the kiss, her tongue entering Elphaba's mouth, exploring it hungrily. The heat between her legs increased, and she pushed harder against Elphaba, wanting, _needing _to become as close as she possibly could to the other woman.

In ecstasy, Glinda wondered how she had survived for so long without experiencing this blissful hunger, this perfect passion- how had she remained alive? If only Fiyero could cause her to feel like this, he would never have cause to complain about their lack of sex again.

_Fiyero._

The frightening thought caused her to falter and freeze: the first sense of rationality which had entered her mind since they had strayed into the garden.

"Oh no," Glinda gasped, pulling away- albeit far later than Elphaba had dared hope. Her eyes were wide, not with the well-bred dismay that Elphaba had often seen in them, but with sheer, unadulterated panic. She looked entirely distraught at what had just occurred. "Elphaba, no! We can't!"

"Can't what?" Elphaba felt dazed, her heart beating at ten times its usual rate. She certainly wasn't in the mood to consider the implications of her actions at present.

"You know perfectly well what I'm referring to!" Glinda had taken several steps away from her and a small hand was pressed to either one of her cheeks- as usual she was the caricature of her feelings. "Elphaba, I'm married! I can't just go around kissing other people! And- and we're both women! It- It's just wrong!"

To force the other woman to be quiet more than anything else, Elphaba pulled Glinda swiftly towards her, pressing their lips together once more.

She then drew away just an inch and looked steadily at Glinda. The smaller woman's lips were parted and her head was inclined slightly upwards, her eyes half closed. She looked like a baby bird seeking out food.

"Does that feel wrong to you?" Elphaba whispered fiercely to her, digging her fingers into Glinda's shoulders, "Does anything about that feel _wrong_?"

Glinda paused, her eyes moving from side to side as though searching for the answer within Elphaba's. As this happened, Elphaba was filled with the unnerving thought- what if it had just been her? What if Glinda had felt nothing at all when they had kissed? But then, slowly, the blonde shook her head very slightly.

"What-" she began, and then paused, and Elphaba waited patiently as she anxiously licked her lips before continuing, "What was it you needed to tell me?"

Elphaba looked steadily at her, her fingers still pressed to Glinda's shoulders, and realised that this was the moment of truth. "I'm falling for you, Glinda," she said, quietly but without falter. As she spoke, Elphaba realised that she no longer possessed control over the words she spoke, and that there was no way she was about to reach a rational conclusion. Perhaps she'd never even had that control to begin with. Perhaps it belonged to a higher force- not the Unnamed God, not Lurline, but _something_ more significant than herself. Was she really in control of her own life, or was her life under the oppression of somebody, _something _else? But for once, Elphaba did not have the energy to explore this question in much depth. All she cared about now was unburdening to the other woman this strange truth and receiving back the knowledge of whether her feelings would be returned and accepted or crushingly rejected.

"I feel something for you- something irrepressible- that I've never before felt for anybody else," she told Glinda carefully, "You entered my life like a ray of sunshine, offering me friendship for the first time in my life; showing me what it feels like to truly care about another person. Your soul is more beautiful than that of anyone else I know and I've fallen for you in a way I never knew to be possible, Glinda."

Glinda opened her mouth to reply, and then stopped. What did one _say _to that? Of course, she'd been told similar by plenty of men previously, and usually she simply answered by telling them that they were very sweet, but she was happily married. But this was Elphaba. Her _friend_. Perhaps even her _best_ friend. How could she possibly tell Elphaba that she was very sorry but unfortunately she just _couldn't_, without hurting her feelings?

"I should go," Elphaba said suddenly, her voice sounding very distant, and when Glinda looked up, she found that she was looking at the floor with a hefty frown, her arms wrapped protectively across her torso. "I'm sorry, Glinda… I shouldn't have- Please, forget I said anything."

"Elphie," Glinda protested, unable to stand seeing the other woman look so vulnerable; but Elphaba was already walking away and she could do little more than watch helplessly, a thousand emotions playing havoc within her as each one of them struggled for dominance.

"Elphaba!" she called, and then when this gained no response, "Elphaba, don't you _dare _walk away from me!" she shouted hysterically.

Slowly, Elphaba turned; then took several careful steps back towards Glinda.

"I don't expect you to return my feelings," she assured her, frowning, "I understand that you're married, and it is not my intention to come between you and your husband. If you believe it possible for us to remain friends, I'll try my utmost to prevent anything changing between us; or if you choose, I can walk out of your life right now. Just say the word if that's what you want, Glinda."

"Hush," Glinda said, and- tentatively- she placed a hand to either one of Elphaba's cheeks and gently steered her head so that she was facing her. "You're the most genuine, selfless, _beautiful _person I know, and... and regardless of how married I am, I can't suppress any longer the realisation that I've fallen for you in quite the same way as you have me."

Elphaba stared at her, attempting to find some hint in her eyes that she was being untruthful, toying with her- but she found none. Glinda looked vulnerable, terrified; her eyes more confused than Elphaba had ever witnessed them. And she herself felt quite the same way. Nobody had ever told Elphaba that she was beautiful- nobody she knew had cared enough to lie so unashamedly to her face. Even Avaric, when he had sweet-talked her father, had not been able to use that particular adjective: he had referred to her as _lovely_, and had claimed that she was _attractive_; but never had he used the word _beautiful_.

"I- I don't know what to say," she confessed finally.

Glinda gave a shaky smile, and then removed her hands from Elphaba's face in order that she could take her hands. "You don't have to say anything," she told her. "Just... just kiss me, Elphie."

Elphaba found herself begin to tremble uncontrollably. _I can't, _she wanted to tell her; but Glinda had shifted so that her face was very close to Elphaba's, her lips just centimetres away from her own, and Elphaba felt pure instinct taking over. She closed the gap between their mouths and kissed Glinda fiercely. Glinda returned the kiss hungrily, her nails digging into the back of Elphaba's hands, and Elphaba felt the sense of joy and excitement which she had experienced when they had first kissed rekindle within her. How was it possible for a sensation of this magnitude to exist, she wondered fleetingly? How could one ever comprehend this feeling of bliss, this sense that Oz had suddenly righted itself?

Then, all too soon, the kiss had ended, and Glinda was looking at her with tears in her eyes. Elphaba looked at them in confusion and concern.

"Am I truly that terrible at kissing?" she asked, suddenly unsure of herself and only half joking.

"Terrible? Oh sweet Lurline, are you deluded?" Glinda gave a soft hiccup and several tears leaked from her trusting, blue eyes, "That was- that was wonderful."

"Then why are you crying?" Elphaba asked, genuinely bewildered now.

Glinda paused, and then shook her head. Her tears were falling heavily now, spilling down her cheeks in thick torrents. "It _shouldn't _feel wonderful," she choked out anxiously, "It should feel _wrong _on every level possible... But oh Oz, it feels so right!"

Suddenly feeling an extraordinary amount of love for the other woman, Elphaba wrapped her arms around her tiny body and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"We'll be okay," she whispered in Glinda's ear, "Trust me Glinda, you don't need to worry."

"I trust you," Glinda whispered back through her tears, "You haven't let me down yet, Elphie."

_Yet_, Elphaba worried silently; but she forced a smile for Glinda's benefit.

"Here," she said, taking the smaller woman by the hand and beginning to move in the direction of the house.

"Where are we going?" Glinda asked, her tears now subsided as she followed Elphaba trustingly.

"My old room," Elphaba replied simply.

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><p>Elphaba paced agitatedly up and down while Glinda perched on the edge of the bed, watching her. Every now and then, she would absent-mindedly pick up a book or a photograph frame, before replacing it just several inches short of where she had found it.<p>

"I don't know why I brought you up here," she said finally, frowning, toying with the handle of a drawer in favour of looking at Glinda.

"Don't you?"

Their eyes locked for a split second and then Elphaba looked away quickly, guiltily.

Unable to stand it, Glinda dropped backwards onto the bed, curling her knees into her chest; her classic position of childhood defence. She half expected Elphaba to turn and exit the room wordlessly, fleeing from the situation as she was so prone to doing. But after several seconds had passed, Glinda felt the mattress beneath her move very slightly as Elphaba positioned herself hesitantly on the bed beside where she lay.

Slowly, Glinda turned her face to look at the other woman and then, before she knew what was happening, she had risen from her position in order to draw her arms around Elphaba's thin frame, pulling the two of them together.

Their lips met tentatively, as if for the first time, as though they had not kissed only minutes previously. And then, as Elphaba pulled away just long enough to view Glinda with doubtful eyes, a small crease between her brows, Glinda pulled her down beside her, easing them closer together.

Elphaba lay on her back, her head swivelled towards Glinda as she viewed the blonde in mixed surprise and lust; and Glinda turned onto her side, her arms tight around Elphaba as she nuzzled close into her side.

"Do you understand," Elphaba murmured, her eyes moving back and forth as they searched Glinda's, "Exactly what you'll be sacrificing if you do this? I trust you've never been unfaithful to Fiyero before."

"Don't," Glinda murmured, her face nudging at Elphaba's neck, "Don't make me consider the implications of what I'm doing just yet. I need to have this moment. Please, _please _let me."

"But Glinda, you _need _to understand," Elphaba insisted fiercely, squirming away from the blonde so that they could view one another freely, "I can't allow you to do something you'll regret. Don't you see that? I have to know that you're _sure_."

"I'm _sure_," Glinda repeated back to her, placing emphasis on the word in exactly the same way Elphaba had done. She shifted upwards so that she rested on her hands and knees, one palm either side of Elphaba's head, her left knee between the other woman's thighs. Slyly, she slipped this knee upwards just a fraction, and smiled when Elphaba's back arched very slightly to signify her consequent pleasure.

"Glinda," she tried once more, her voice striving for authority, but Glinda silenced her by pressing her lips to Elphaba's own in a stern kiss.

"Stop," she murmured when she drew away, looking down into Elphaba's eyes which were half closed from the impact of the unexpected kiss. "Elphie, please. I'm a grown woman, not a silly, teenage girl. I understand precisely what I'm doing, and I can negotiate my own actions accordingly _without _your commentary."

She witnessed a flash of amusement flash across Elphaba's face at these words, and then the other woman gave a small nod. "Very well," she said, and then slender, green arms latched at the small of Glinda's back, pulling her closer. The blonde complied, allowing her full, insignificant weight to drop onto Elphaba's chest, her arms sliding in around her long, narrow neck as their lips met once more.

They did no more than kiss for quite some time. Despite Glinda's assurances that all was well, she was nevertheless more frightened of what was to occur imminently than she would admit, and sensed that Elphaba felt a similar timidness about progressing their encounter. But slowly, gradually, Glinda realised that her hands had begun to, well, _roam_. They were no longer cupped innocently at Elphaba's neck, but had strayed lower in order to explore her body in its entirety. One hand circled experimentally around one of those gorgeous, unsupported breasts, while the other slipped downwards towards Elphaba's hip: venturing across the jut of bone which protruded even through her dress. And then finally, with rather more confidence than she had possessed previously, Glinda's hands crept to the neck of Elphaba's dress, impatient with the cheap, scratchy material and greedy for what lay under it. She undid one button, and then another.

"Wait." Elphaba intended for the command to sound assertive, and yet it left her mouth shaky and uneasy. Gently, she eased Glinda away from her and, with fumbling fingers, reached for the lamp beside the bed, intending to put it out.

Before she had achieved this aim, however, Glinda had caught her hand and snaked her own fingers between Elphaba's. "What are you doing?" she asked, frowning disapprovingly.

Elphaba sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm ugly, Glinda," she pointed out, "Not only is my body awkward, gangly and boy-like, but my skin is this colour all over, you know. This will be much better for the both of us if you can't see me clearly; please trust me on that."

"Don't," Glinda said, and Elphaba turned her eyes down as those clear, blue ones stared directly into them, "Don't speak about yourself that way. You're beautiful, Elphie. Instantly, the first time I saw you in that piano room, you took my breath away."

"Don't be absurd." Elphaba disentangled her fingers roughly from Glinda's, entirely furious at the blatant lie. "I recognise that you mean well and I appreciate the effort in you saying all that, but please, don't lie to me, Glinda. Don't _ever _lie to me like that."

"I'm not lying!" Glinda had caught her face between both hands, forcing Elphaba to look at her head-on. She was shocked to see tears in the blonde woman's eyes and felt her anger melt away very slightly. "Elphaba, I don't know who's caused you to think so badly of yourself that you would assume I'm lying to you, but I am _not _that person. I don't care if anyone else thinks of you as unattractive; you're beautiful to _me_. So you mustn't… Please never…"

But it seemed that Glinda couldn't continue as she let out a choked sob and tears began coursing uncontrollably down her cheeks.

"Glinda!" Confounded by the other woman's tears, Elphaba eased the other woman's head into her shoulder and rocked her gently. "It's okay. I've long ago come to terms with the fact that I'm unattractive. It's just-" she paused, and closed her eyes briefly, before continuing, "Avaric told me when we first met that he found me attractive, and it turned out to be one big lie. He thinks I'm as grotesque as anyone else, but he needed to get on my sweet side in order that he could access my father's money. So, please, Glinda. Do forgive me for being unable to believe you when you tell me the same thing."

She looked down into the other woman's tear-streaked face and felt guilt bubble in the pit of her stomach. "I want to believe you," she said, rather more softly, "I truly do, Glinda. But you must appreciate how difficult this is for me."

"Then perhaps actions will be more convincing for you than words?" Glinda enquired gently. She moved so that her lips were very close to Elphaba's and then brushed them softly with her own. Elphaba latched onto them and kissed her back carefully, until she felt Glinda's hands move again to the front of her dress; then shot back sharply.

"Glinda," she said; and was disgusted to hear the insecurity in her own tone. "Glinda, I can assure you-" she tried again, but then Glinda's lips were once again on her own, rendering her incapable of uttering any further protests.

"Sshh," Glinda murmured when she drew back, "I won't hurt you as the others have, Elphie. I _won__'__t.__"_

And Elphaba tried to believe her. She kissed Glinda back and helped her to remove her clothes as Glinda helped her to remove hers. But then, once they were both completely void of their clothing, Glinda sat back on her heels and surveyed Elphaba's body carefully.

"I told you," Elphaba murmured, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried in vain to cover her exposed self, unnerved by the scrutiny, "I told you I was-"

"Beautiful," Glinda said, and Elphaba fell silent, utterly speechless, "You're beautiful, Elphie."

That which followed was sex in a way that Elphaba had never experienced. In contrast to the rough ordeal in which Avaric had forced himself upon her, Glinda's lovemaking was gentle and tender; her focus on Elphaba's pleasure rather than her own. The antithesis of Avaric, Glinda was so affectionate, so gentle, continuously pausing to ensure that Elphaba was okay. It was not the wild, passionate lovemaking which Elphaba had fantasised about, but was more sensual than she could ever have anticipated. Glinda's hands entered her like liquid poetry, and the lips which tasted her skin danced like reckless butterflies.

Weak with desire, Elphaba returned Glinda's love in much the same way, wanting the other woman to receive the same intensity of pleasure that she herself was feeling. As Elphaba climaxed for the first time, clutching tight onto Glinda as her body shuddered and convulsed, she heard her lover gasp in pleasure, and realised the two of them were one and the same in their love: equals in every way possible.

As she lay there, Glinda suddenly understood entirely why it had felt so right when she had kissed Elphaba; why she had felt so sure that this was what she wanted to do.

_I love her. _

The revelation was so startling to Glinda that she couldn't help but gasp. How could she have spent her entire life having been convinced she had known what love was, only to have been so utterly wrong? She had assumed that love was something which inevitably followed marriage; something which one could teach herself to feel. Never had Glinda anticipated that love might just suddenly come upon her, unasked for and unexpected. And yet, there was no other way she could explain to herself the warm feeling she always experienced in Elphaba's presence, the pleasant flutter she felt each time they brushed hands, or the fire burning within her as they had made love.

Love was more frighteningly beautiful than she could ever have imagined. Or beautifully frightening, depending on the way in which she cared to look at it. And Glinda couldn't decide how she _did _want to look at it. A part of her wanted to sing and shout, and scream from her balcony that she was in love with a wonderful, ethereal woman. And yet, the sensible, rational part of her recalled her now-broken marriage vows and insisted that she should banish all unrespectable thoughts of Elphaba from her mind, no matter how beautiful and all-consuming those thoughts were. Her commitment was to her husband, and that which had happened should not have done so- and never should again.

"Glinda?" A small voice to her left said, and she jumped, having almost forgotten where she was. "May I ask what you're feeling?"

Glinda turned her head to look at Elphaba and felt a lump collect in her throat. The green woman had moved as far from her as the bed would allow, and was perched on its edge with her knees pulled into her chest, the blankets folded tightly and firmly around her.

"Guilt," Glinda whispered, turning her face away once more as she felt tears collect in her eyes. "I- I don't know why I did that."

"You don't?"

The pained words cut into Glinda like knives and she shrank further away. "I do," she whispered and then suddenly, she was crying uncontrollably.

"Glinda," Elphaba whispered, sounding horrified. She reached out a hand to touch Glinda consolingly, but the blonde shied away. Out of the corner of her eye, Glinda watched the green arm drop helplessly back to its owner's side and took a deep breath to regain control of herself. She wasn't being fair. She had been the instigator of the situation just as much as Elphaba had; it wasn't right of her to be punishing the other woman.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely, forcing herself to sit up and look into Elphaba's eyes, which were clouded with as much guilt as her own. "I- I'm just so afraid."

Elphaba looked at her, and the tightness in her expression intensified. "This never needs to happen again," she reminded Glinda, far too calmly.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Glinda shook her head. "I know that," she said, "But Elphie, I… I _want _it to. That's what I'm so afraid of."

She watched as Elphaba's eyes passed over her, scrutinizing her. Then, she nodded once. "Let's get dressed."

As they reassumed their clothing, Glinda surreptitiously kept her eye on Elphaba, hoping to see some sign of pleasure at the experience; joy that it might be repeated; or even regret that it had happened at all. She just wanted to see _something_. But Elphaba's expression never betrayed a hint of what she might be feeling: she had returned entirely to her defensive, stoic self. And yet, Glinda had now seen underneath that shield. She knew that under Elphaba's hard exterior, there was a woman who was loving and kind- and who was as afraid as she was. When they had made love, she was sure that she had seen a happiness in Elphaba's eyes that few people must have witnessed. This alone was enough for Glinda to grow determined that they _would _make love again, if only for the fact that being the cause of Elphaba's happiness was the greatest gift anybody could ever offer her.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for this having taken so long again, guys. In the last couple of weeks, I've felt super guilt each time at not having updated each time this story has received a new follower or favourite. But life's been getting in the way as usual- so this time I'm not going to give any false promises about when the next chapter will be up. Just rest assured that this story WILL get finished... eventually! Try and stick with me and I won't let you down! :)

Oh, and on a different note, a few of you appear to have added me on facebook. While I'm 100% cool with that- I love chatting with you guys outside the site- please, please send me a message with your request letting me know who you are. I get a lot of randoms who I've met once or twice in passing attempting to add me, and it's very difficult for me to figure out whether I know you when we've got no friends in common!

Anyway, enough of me, here's the next chapter :)

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><p>Chapter 12<p>

Making love with Elphaba had not, by any means, been perfect. Neither one of them had been able to entirely dismiss the fear that what they were doing might just have an inherent wrongness to it, and both had been far too nervous and unsure about the encounter to render it smooth and faultless. The experience had been flawed, significantly so, but this only seemed to make Glinda all the more determined to repeat it. She found herself longing for the touch of Elphaba's long, pianist's fingers, thirsting for them to play her body as she played her beloved instrument.

It was not difficult for them to find excuses to spend the night together. Fiyero would be away for weeks at a time, only to return with a bunch of exotic flowers as way of apology for his absence and as confirmation that he had, in fact, been honest about where he had travelled to. Avaric, too, would often spend the night away from home; although taking advantage of this was more risky, as he would frequently return in the early hours of the morning, often with a scantily dressed girl or two draped shamelessly around him.

It seemed horrendous to Glinda that Avaric should display his infidelity so brazenly: to her, adultery was something shameful, something which should be conducted in secret. And it seemed incredible to her too that Elphaba seemed unperturbed by her husband's behaviour. Further than shaking her head distastefully at him on occasion, she would simply ignore both her husband and his lovers, and neither would she discuss it when Glinda pestered her about whether she felt upset by Avaric's conduct.

Glinda herself could only imagine how she might feel if Fiyero were to bring another woman home; and the thoughts of grief, betrayal and anger which came to mind only made her feel all the more guilt-ridden regarding the affair she was partaking in with Elphaba. Still, even after several weeks, she seemed unable to complete a visitation from Elphaba without breaking down in tears at some point or another. It was embarrassing, and she hated the fact that it hurt Elphaba to see her crying, but Glinda was unable to prevent it. It wasn't that she was not _happy_ when she was with Elphaba: in fact, she felt more relaxed and content when with her lover than she did at any other time. It was simply the impossibility of the situation: the fact that she wanted to be with Elphaba truly and completely, but the way in which she knew that this day, if it came at all, was an awfully long way away from where they were at present. And when Elphaba responded to her sobs by gently suggesting that, for Glinda's own sake, they call off their affair; this only caused Glinda to cry harder, to cling to Elphaba and beg her not to leave. And so Elphaba didn't, and their affair continued.

Glinda twirled one blonde curl mindlessly around her finger and reread the same sentence for the third time. It was still no clearer than when she had first looked upon it, however, and so she skipped ahead to the next paragraph, hoping that the first wouldn't be too essential to her understanding of the text as a whole. She wasn't the best reader, it was fair to say. She had learned the basics when she had been young, of course- all the most well-to-do families employed teachers for their children, regardless of their gender- but she had never developed any deeper understanding as to how she should go about immersing herself in a text the way in which she watched Elphaba do. Still, Elphaba had become so passionate lately about this issue regarding the wellbeing of Animals that Glinda had become increasingly curious as to what it was all about. Hence, instead of sleeping or trying to sneak round to Elphaba's- although it would be mindless tonight, as Fiyero had been hovering around her like an irritating, flying insect all day and would become suspicious if she left the house- Glinda was sitting up in bed, trying to wrap her mind around a book full of words and concepts of which she possessed little to no understanding.

In time, Glinda heard the bedroom door creak open, but did not remove her eyes from the page she was frowning down upon. Interruptions were not welcome to her at present: not when she was finally beginning to grasp the nature of the author's perspective. She felt the mattress beneath her move slightly from the change in weight as Fiyero climbed under the sheets beside her and she shifted in annoyance, trying to keep her focus.

"What are you reading, Glinda?" her husband asked curiously, snaking an arm across her shoulders and trying to pull her into him.

"A book discussing the nature of experience," Glinda mumbled, barely looking up, "This chapter is questioning whether or not we can come to know a soul through our experience with a body. Consequently, can we know that the soul of an Animal is the same as that of a human, simply by being with and talking to them?"

"And can we?" Fiyero asked, not sounding in the least bit curious as he brushed her hair from her neck and moved his lips to it.

Glinda frowned, tilting her head subconsciously away from him. "I don't know that the author reaches any definite conclusions," she said after a pause, "The book is designed more to make the reader think than to provide him or her with any direct answers. It discusses whether or not Animals possess human-like intuition, which is an ambiguous term in itself."

"Surely it isn't so difficult to understand intuition?" Fiyero mumbled. His lips had progressed to her collarbone now, and Glinda wished he'd desist.

"Apparently there are a lot of ways to define intuition," she told him tiredly, "But Elphie looked up the official definition out of curiosity." She indicated the little note at the side of the page which had been added in Elphaba's untidy scrawl. "_A direct perception of truth or fact, independent of any reasoning process. _However, she's also written in an alternative meaning for the word when used in a philosophical context: _an immediate cognition of an object not inferred or determined by a previous cognition of the same object, or any object or truth so discerned. _Or conversely: _pure, untaught, non-inferential knowledge."_

"Glinda, I haven't the vaguest idea what you're talking about," Fiyero laughed and, to Glinda's irritation, he extracted the book clean out of her hands and tossed it carelessly onto the floor.

"Fiyero!" Glinda complained, as he laid her head gently back onto her pillow, "Be careful! That book isn't mine: it's Elphie's."

Fiyero was now engrossed in his exploration of her body, however, and didn't seem to hear her. His hands- tanned, masculine hands, so unlike the spidery green hands she so craved- pawed clumsily at her torso, at her breasts. It made Glinda's skin crawl. Why must he touch her so incessantly?

"Fiyero," she murmured, squirming out of his grasp, "I'm not really in the mood tonight, dearest."

Fiyero moved away from her, and Glinda caught the look of hurt which had appeared on his face. She felt a twinge of guilt.

"I don't understand what's happened to you lately, Glinda," Fiyero said softly, as he returned to his own side of the bed. "You've become so serious since you started spending time with Elphaba. I miss the bubbly, fun-loving woman I married."

Glinda felt a ripple of panic spread through her. Had she really changed so much? Was she causing Fiyero to become suspicious? "She's still here," she told him firmly, turning to her husband and pressing her lips briefly to his cheek. Then, as an afterthought: "She's just perhaps grown up a little and has lost some of the false illusions about life she once possessed."

"I have no idea what you're talking about once again, Glinda," Fiyero told her quietly, "I don't know this cryptic, philosophical woman in bed beside me."

"I'm still me," Glinda insisted, putting her hand to Fiyero's cheek and forcing him to look at her. And although it pained her to say it, she added: "I'm still your wife."

Slowly, Fiyero took Glinda's face in both hands and pushed back her hair before bringing his lips to hers. Glinda kissed him back with as much passion as she could muster, and when his hands strayed down to her nightdress, she did not object. She was not unaccustomed, after all, to switching off during lovemaking- it was something she found herself doing each time she felt guilty enough to allow her husband's advances to progress, maybe once every two weeks or so.

"You still love me, Glinda?" Fiyero murmured.

"You're my husband," Glinda replied; and this seemed like a satisfactory enough answer, as Fiyero pressed his lips to hers again- more forcefully this time- and carefully began to remove their clothes.

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><p>When she awoke the next morning, Fiyero was absent. This came as no surprise to Glinda- she was no stranger to falling asleep beside her husband and waking up in an empty bed- but as she turned over in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, she felt something crackle beneath her head. Frowning, Glinda lifted the pillow and unearthed from beneath it a note.<p>

_My darling wife-_

_You're a beautiful person inside and out. Have a wonderful day, Glinda- you deserve to smile._

_All my love,_

_-Fiyero_

No description of where he'd gone, no indication of when he'd return. Just simple, heartfelt words. They were only words, Glinda knew, and yet, as she read them, she felt tears collect in her eyes. _You're a beautiful person inside and out. _At one time, Glinda knew, she would have agreed. Nobody could deny that she was an attractive woman- she had been told that this was the case by everyone around her for years and years, and had subsequently come to believe it herself. But she had been a good person too: she helped others when she could, remained close to her family, donated money to charities. All in all, Glinda had felt that she had been rather a good candidate for being wife to a man such as Fiyero- even perfect, perhaps.

And yet, now… Glinda knew that she was nothing close to perfect. She _wasn't _a good person: she was as flawed as anybody else. And she hated Fiyero for leaving her the note, for reminding her of her personal shortcomings.

Glinda crumpled the note into one hand as she let her head drop back onto her pillow, tears flowing freely now. She wouldn't see Elphaba today- she would feign illness if necessary. Who in Oz did she think she was anyway, running straight to somebody else's bed each time her husband was away? What had happened to her morals, her shame, her dignity?

* * *

><p>Elphaba pursed her lips as she tossed aside another useless reference. It had been over a month now since she'd begun her involvement in the Animal cause. She'd written numerous letters to influential figures she'd found within her reading: most of these had been ignored, but she'd managed to strike up a long-standing communication with one Doctor Dillamond: a Goat trained in the field of natural science who had been partaking in research hoping to undermine the new Animal Banns which were being imposed.<p>

Until she'd begun her research, Elphaba had not been aware than any such Banns had been set in motion. She supposed she'd been living in something of a bubble up until recently- but she thought it was more than this. The amount to which Animals were being persecuted, according to Dillamond, when set against the amount of this which was being reported on, was shocking. Who was behind these Banns and why were they so against making it public knowledge? Elphaba was not sure and neither, it seemed, was Dillamond. But the green woman was determined to find out. She may be a woman, but that did not render her entirely useless: she had expressed her desire to help with the cause in any way she could in her letters to Dillamond, and he had responded by requesting a meeting with her which she was due to attend in just under a week.

She had written to Glinda, sharing her elation over this news, but the blonde had not responded. Nor had she replied to Elphaba's other notes enquiring as to her wellbeing and offering suggestions as to when they should next meet together. It had been several weeks since they had last seen one another, which was highly unusual- they rarely spent more than a few days void of one another's presence. Elphaba supposed that the blonde's interest had waned: both in the Cause and in herself. She was disappointed and rather hurt by this, of course, but not entirely surprised. It was only natural that Glinda should become bored of her company eventually, and Elphaba supposed she should count it as a blessing that the other woman had remained around for even as long as she had.

She was _used _to being alone, Elphaba reminded herself fervently. She had always been content with her own company. And with this thought in mind, she pushed the hurt from her mind in favour of immersing herself in her work.

Consumed by this driven mentality, Elphaba spent the next two weeks working solidly. Sleep and food came to be considered an unnecessary waste of time and an obstacle against further progress, and so she dispensed with them when she was able. Time lost all meaning to Elphaba, and she often found herself unable to suppress her need for sleep at irregular times.

It was during one of these times that she found herself being gently awoken by a maid.

"Ma'am?" Groggily, Elphaba lifted her cheek from her desk, impatiently pulling away the sheet of paper that had become stuck there.

"Mmmph?" she mumbled, casting her eyes to the window and finding herself surprised that the light stinging her eyes was _daylight_. What _time _was it?- she found herself wondering for the first time in days.

"You have a visitor," the maid was eyeing her unsurely, "Her coat has been taken and she has been seen through to the sitting room, but if ma'am would rather not-"

"No," Elphaba interrupted, more loudly than she'd intended. She climbed clumsily to her feet, unsurprised when the room around her seemed to spin slightly: she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. On the way to the door she remembered something, however; and turned. "My husband," she demanded, "He isn't home."

It was a question, and the maid lowered her head and shook it slightly. "No, ma'am."

"Good." She made her way to the sitting room, knowing who she would find there- or was that mere hope that it would be the person she most wanted to see? Whichever way, she was distinctly unsurprised to find Glinda seated daintily on the pink pouffe she'd long ago claimed as her own. The blonde woman's head was down and she was nervously twisting her wedding ring around on her finger. When Elphaba entered the room, however, she desisted in this practice and hastily rose.

"Hello," Glinda said, nervously shifting her weight, "How- how have you been?"

Elphaba merely shrugged in response, disinclined to engage in this silly small-talk. Her guard, she realised, was well and truly up once more. She had thought that Glinda had left her for good, and was unable to think of a sensible reason as to why she might now return.

Glinda cleared her throat as though in preparation to speak, though no words followed. Elphaba looked at her automatically, however, noticing, as she did so, the way in which blue eyes were shooting back and forth towards the room's door.

"Avaric isn't home," she said, in answer to the unspoken question, "Now what can I do for you, Mrs Tiggular?"

Glinda's eyes flitted to hers and shot wide open. "Mrs Tiggular?" she repeated, her voice incredulous, "Have we really returned to that?"

Elphaba eyed her sternly. "You tell me," she said simply.

Glinda gazed at her shoes for several moments, her expression troubled- and then something seemed to snap within her as her posture visibly straightened and she looked steadily back at Elphaba.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, an angry edge to her tone that Elphaba did not like.

"Me?" she repeated sharply, "Glinda, you're the one who's been ignoring me for the past few weeks only to show up at my door seemingly disinclined to utter a word of explanation."

A brief silence ensued as Elphaba took a sharp intake of breath following her words. She had not intended to sound so urgent to receive an answer, so… needy. Elphaba was not a creature of _need_; she was as self-sufficient as a person could be. And yet those desperate, accusing words had spewed out from somewhere.

"Well, I've been _busy,_" Glinda finally retorted rather weakly, and Elphaba watched as the other woman seemed to be attempting to summon the words to aptly defend herself, "I'm a married woman, Elph- _Mrs Moncrieff_, and as I am not married to _you,_ I see no reason as to why I should keep you informed of my constant whereabouts."

Elphaba merely looked at her, her eyes narrowing. No, it was true that they were not married and she, therefore, did not possess claim over Glinda in the way that Fiyero did. But she had assumed that they shared _something_: something strong enough that she might receive warning when Glinda was to disappear for weeks at a time.

She did not voice any of this, however. It would make her seem too weak, too attached, and neither of those traits were desirable to her at that present moment. Instead, she simply raised an eyebrow at Glinda. "Yes, you are married," she said, as calmly as she was able, "And yet, if you hold your marriage in such high regard, it begs the question of just what you are doing here. Exactly where does your husband believe you to be at present?"

If the trapped look which appeared on Glinda's face was anything to go by, Elphaba knew she had caught the other woman.

"That is none of your concern. The larger issue is that if I am not wanted here, I had better be leaving," she huffed finally, "I do apologise for taking up your time."

She turned and flounced into the hallway following these words, and Elphaba followed behind her. After reaching for her coat from a hook beside the door, Glinda turned and viewed Elphaba disdainfully.

"You may do well to consider how those other than yourself might be affected next time you aim to entrap somebody in romantic liaisons, Mrs Moncrieff," she said, head raised and chin poking outwards.

Elphaba opened her mouth in order to utter an angry retort to this hurtful and entirely unjustified statement, but this aim was quickly prohibited by pink lips which were suddenly and unexpectedly pressed against her own in spontaneous fervour.

"Glinda-" Elphaba gasped, struggling against the other woman's grip as she pulled back, "What are you-"

But once again, her speech was cut off by heated lips, this time accompanied by an invasive, pointy tongue. Then the tongue was drawn back and sharp teeth nibbled at her bottom lip, rather harder than was wholly necessary. Despite herself, Elphaba let out a grunt of pleasure, her arms swooping around the other woman and drawing her closer as the need for the nearness of the other's body intensified. Glinda reciprocated the movement, though with rather more force, her nails scraping fiercely at the fabric of Elphaba's dress as though hoping to slice right through it to the skin which lay beneath. She leaned in closer, closer, her kisses increasingly urgent; until finally Elphaba's knees became too weak to support the combined weight of the two of them. They collapsed beneath her, and the two women were brought to the floor.

This seemed not to hinder Glinda's passion, however; she scrambled atop Elphaba, desperate to find a position which brought them both the optimal level of satisfaction. One hand clawed at the hem of Elphaba's dress, anxiously bringing it upwards to uncover her flesh, and Glinda's mouth had moved to Elphaba's neck. Her tongue roamed the skin there and Elphaba shuddered as it hit a particular pleasure point she had never known existed. Then, suddenly, Glinda bit; her teeth coming down hard into sensitive, green skin.

"Glinda," Elphaba gasped, raising a trembling hand to sit at the small of Glinda's back, surprised and intrigued about this new side of the blonde she appeared to have unearthed. Glinda paused then, briefly, and raised her head so that her face was level with Elphaba's, her body still flush against the other woman's.

"I need you, Elphie," she whispered voice husky with lust, "You're a constant in my life I can't do without."

And before she had had time to process this revelation, Glinda's roaming hand had come to press hard against the precise spot she needed it. No hesitation, no teasing of any kind; simply pure, confident pressure. This aroused Elphaba more than she was able to rationalise, and she quickly found herself responding with a similar level of frenzied passion to that which Glinda had been demonstrating to her.

The floor was hard, uncarpeted, cold, and a chilly breeze penetrated through the slight gap under the door, washing over them uncomfortably. None of this mattered however, and neither did the simple fact that the front door was mere feet away from them seem to present any reason as to why they should discontinue their antics. Indeed, at one point, a maid did arrive in the entrance hall in order to continue her cleaning work; but neither woman noticed, too driven they were by their single-minded, animalistic entanglement. The maid froze for a few moments, her mouth agape in shock, but quickly retreated, remembering that her mistress' affairs were none of her concern.

For Glinda and Elphaba, time and space had ceased to exist until further notice. Blithely unaware of anything but one another, the two women grasped, scratched and bit at one another. Clothes were ripped and blood was drawn on both sides, but when, sometime much later, Glinda finally collapsed against Elphaba's body- each of them gasping for breath and thoroughly worn out- the green woman had to conclude that whatever sort of fight for dominance they'd just engaged in, the result was that of an undeniable draw.


End file.
